Back to Black
by Swinging Cloud
Summary: It still feels like cheating, but Brittany's not sure who she's cheating on anymore. A collection of semi-connected angsty, smutty one-shot pieces to counteract Glee episodes. Brittana, Season Four, Canon-compliant I guess? NOW WITH 10000% MORE HOPE FOR THE FUTURE!
1. Back to Black

**Title:** Back to Black

**Rating:** Hard R (lol not really, I just wanted to put hard in front of the R because it sounds more badass, let's be real)

**Disclaimer:** _Glee_ doesn't belong to me. If it did, it probably wouldn't suck as much.

**A/N:** Hey guys. So I hope you're not watching the episode, and if you are, I hope it's on a stream so that you're not contributing to the ratings. In any case, this is a short one-shot that's kind of angsty, but I dunno, I guess it's kind of hopeful in the end? I might write a complementary fluffier piece for next Thursday if I have time. Keep shipping Brittana, because they are endgame, and don't ever lose hope! _Glee_ sucks, but that's why we have the amazing writers of our fandom to keep us from sinking until _Glee_ gets their shit together. :)

**EDIT: I decided to just put all the angsty one-shots under one story, since they all prettymuch happen in the same Canon universe.**

Happy reading!

* * *

_We only said goodbye with words_

_I died a hundred times_

_I loved you much_

_It's not enough_

Brittany knows who it is before she even answers the door, and, not for the first time, she asks herself why they're still doing this- why she still allows it. It's been weeks- _weeks_- since Santana had _not_ broken up with her. But here they are, playing the same games they always play. She keeps herself open, free- unattached, though not _lonely-_ in the hopes that they'll work things out, that Santana will come to her senses, that Santana will realize what Brittany already has. She's done nothing wrong, she knows that. They still loved- _love_- each other.

So why are they doing this?

Brittany opens the front door and is both pleased and slightly sick to discover that her guess at her late-night visitor is one hundred percent correct.

_Britt,_ Santana breathes, and she doesn't meet her eyes. She stands in the doorway, slightly breathless, finding the doorframe infinitely fascinating, and Brittany swallows at Santana's lack of eye contact. It reminds her too much of-

_San_, she says, distracting herself from her troubling thoughts. _What are you doing here?_

Santana steps forward boldly- still avoiding her gaze- and Brittany's suddenly assaulted with her scent, with her warmth. With her lips.

She never stood a chance.

_I missed you_, Santana says lowly when she pulls back, but not enough to halt the utter take-over of Brittany's senses. Santana looks up for the first time, her dark eyes catching Brittany's blue ones. The raw, exposed vulnerability present in them makes Brittany swallow hard, makes her knees weak, makes her stomach tighten.

_I missed you, too,_ Brittany returns, but her thoughts race, and Santana's lips find hers again anyways, stealing any further conversation.

Why are they doing this?

She doesn't want to. She swore she'd never allow them to regress back to this state. She promised herself so many times that she'd never be Santana's _side action_ again. But here they are.

Doing exactly this.

She knew the moment she heard the door what was going to happen, because it had happened so many times before- in past weeks, in past years. Years that had seemed lifetimes away, but still painfully close, like scars that never heal, because they're still reopening in the present.

Brittany doesn't _want_ to do this.

But she faces the same problems she always has- she can't be without Santana. So she's forced to take her any way she can.

It hurts her, of course it does. It reminds her of their Junior year, when Santana was still in the closet, still too ashamed of herself to admit she loved Brittany.

Still avoiding eye contact.

And now- the circumstances are different, but the feelings are the same. Santana is far away, Santana is her _not_ girlfriend, Santana is avoiding eye contact. Santana wants her, Brittany knows she does. But she's trying to be a good person, a good friend. She's trying to follow that dumb cliché- _if you love something, let it go_, but Brittany doesn't want to be let go. She only wants Santana. She doesn't want anyone else, and she's ready for the second part of the cliché, because _if it comes back it's yours_ and Brittany never left, she's only ever been Santana's.

Santana kisses her, and it's like she's trying to forget. Brittany knows she's not alone in Louisville, just like Brittany's not alone in Lima. The best way to get over someone is to get under someone but it's hard to get over someone when you don't actually want to be over them and it's even harder to be under someone when you're thinking of the someone you don't want to get over.

Brittany knows Santana wants her, she _knows_. She just doesn't know why Santana feels like she can't have her. But Santana has to figure things out on her own, so Brittany will let her get under someone in Louisville and then come home to Lima to escape her guilt, because Brittany knows Santana feels guilty. She can almost taste it on her lips. Brittany will wait- she's been waiting for Santana for forever, it seems. Brittany hates waiting, but she hates not having Santana more.

If there's one thing Brittany is good at, it's reassuring Santana, so she will push her own phantoms out of her mind and continue to allow them to do this.

But she doesn't want to.

Santana's tongue invades her mouth and she pushes her into the house. Brittany reaches blindly for the door and shuts it, then pushes Santana back against it, returning her desperate kisses with ones of her own. It hurts her, of course it does. She doesn't want to be under someone in Lima. She only ever wants to be under Santana.

They kiss and kiss, as if they are trying to fuse their mouths together. Santana bites her lower lip harshly, and Brittany returns it harder, and soon they are battling, grabbing, groping each other roughly as if they are trying to punish each other for their own guilt. Brittany picks Santana up easily, and Santana grips Brittany's blonde hair tightly, wrapping her legs around her waist securely and allowing Brittany to carry her up the stairs to her room boldly. She growls in Brittany's mouth and claws at Brittany's scalp, and Brittany bites Santana's neck, sucking fiercely, hoping to leave just a little bit of claim on Santana for the next person Santana's under to see.

They undress quickly- it's faster if they do it themselves, and sometimes it feels like they have to rush, like they are running out of time. Like the clock is ticking by, winding down, and they have to get through it as fast as possible before one of them disappears, or turns into a pumpkin. When their mouths come back together, it's heated and fierce. Teeth clash, tongues duel and Santana's nails leave scratches down Brittany's back, and Brittany hopes it's Santana's own way of claiming her for the next person she's under to see.

When they end up on the bed, they roll and wrestle for dominance, their mouths never parting. Their bodies mash together, and Brittany's heart threatens to break because she'd almost forgotten what it felt like to _fit_. She pulls Santana impossibly closer, painfully so, but somehow Santana still manages to snake her left hand between her legs.

Brittany gasps at the sudden invasion. Santana's not gentle, and it's these moments that hurt most of all- that Brittany feels like she's being _fucked_ again, not made love to. That Santana has forgotten _who_ she's under. That she doesn't feel the difference, the _fit_.

Brittany bites her lip and looks away, blinking back her tears.

Despite her emotional turmoil against it, Santana still knows her body better than anyone, still knows how to make her come- and she does, in a shuddering wave, crying out Santana's name brokenly through her gritted teeth.

When she's panting and trembling, she's reminded of why she still allows this to go on.

Santana kisses her, softly, tenderly. She strokes her lovingly, builds her back up, presses her lips to her skin, as if reminding her- _I love you_- and the second time she comes, it's while looking into Santana's dark eyes, it's while being held close to her pounding heart, it's while feeling safe and secure in her arms.

She recovers, and it's her turn to take out her frustrations, her regrets. It's her turn to wash away her guilt- but she never can. Instead, she heals Santana. She kisses down her body, kisses away the feel of another's hands on her skin. She cleanses her of the feeling of being under someone else, so that she can start again, so that she can break all over again when she returns to Louisville.

Brittany knows Santana doesn't want to be under anyone else, either.

But still they do this.

When Brittany slides inside her, Santana's eyes find hers, and Brittany watches her come undone beneath her, hoping she knows the difference. Hoping she knows _who_ she's under. Hoping she knows they _fit_.

Santana comes with a cry, and she clutches Brittany to her chest as sobs wrack her body. This time, Brittany's confused. Santana never cries, and it brings a sudden cold tightness to Brittany's stomach.

After, when they're tangled in each other, Santana speaks.

_I met someone_, she says. That cold feeling returns to Brittany's stomach. _And I think I could like her, a little bit. _

Brittany just nods, because what else can she do?

_It's just until graduation_, Santana promises. But her voice cracks, and the tremor in it threatens to break Brittany's heart worse than the forgetting. Santana's scared, scared that it won't be _just until graduation_, that it will be _just until I completely forget you and you completely forget me and we completely forget this_, and Brittany knows why they continue to do this.

Because they don't _want_ to forget.

Brittany doesn't answer, because she doesn't know how to say anything that won't come out sounding uncertain or doubtful and doesn't know how to not end it all crying. Maybe- maybe if they continue this, and they meet other people, and they grow apart, and they like other people, and they forget about each other, and they fall in love with other people, maybe- maybe then this won't hurt anymore, but-

Maybe- maybe if they continue this, and they keep fucking each other, and they fuck other people, but they make love to each other, and they like other people, but they _love_ each other, and they forget about each other, but they remind themselves every chance they get, maybe- maybe it will still hurt, but-

Brittany can't be without Santana.

So she will take whatever she can get.

And she will always, always do this.

* * *

**Okay, turned out a lot shorter and angstier than I planned. Don't worry, eventually they will get fluffier! (I hope!) :)**


	2. Heart Attack

**Bram Wedding? Brampocalypse? **

**NOT FOR ME. **

**Here, have some angst. :')**

* * *

_Breaking each other's hearts  
And we don't care cause we're so  
In too deep, can't think about giving it up  
But I never knew love would feel like a heart attack  
It's killing me, swear I never cried so much_

Brittany knows who it is before she even answers her phone, and, not for the first time, she asks herself why she still leaves her ringer on when she goes to bed, why she still wakes up to answer every time- why she still feels a twisting in her stomach as she looks at the clock beside her bed. It's late- _early_ late, and she knows as she slides her finger across the _answer_ button on her phone what state Santana must be in to be calling her so early-late.

_Hey_, Brittany breathes, her voice husky with sleep. She can hear Santana's breathing on the other end, and the familiar, faraway sound both calms her and makes her heart ache with longing. She misses those breaths.

_Hey, B_, Santana's slightly slurred voice responds, and Brittany frowns, a little sick at the discovery that her guess at Santana's state is one hundred percent correct.

_It's late_, Brittany points out unnecessarily.

_Is it?_

Brittany sighs.

_I'm sorry if I woke you up, B. Did I wake you up?_

_No,_ Brittany lies, her voice soft, reassuring. She settles down into her pillow, cradling her phone to her ear and wishing she could cradle Santana to her instead. But Santana's in Louisville, and Brittany's in Lima, and even though Brittany is officially dating Sam, she's still _unofficially_ dating Santana, and she's so, so confused about how the two work together and maybe she doesn't really want to know because she really doesn't want to have to deal with it.

It still feels like cheating, but she's not sure who she's cheating on anymore. Her heart, her soul, her body belong to Santana, have _always_ belonged to Santana, _will_ always belong to Santana- but a shade of herself is being loaned out to Sam, and he's been really kind, and she does care for him, but-

But, but, but-

_I miss you_, Santana murmurs into the phone, her voice low and smoky. Brittany wonders if Santana _has_ been smoking, if Santana was at a party, if Santana-

_I miss you, too_, Brittany says easily. Then, _Are you drunk?_

_No_, Santana defends too quickly, lies too quickly, and of course Santana knows that Brittany knows she's lying, they've been drunk together too many times for Brittany not to know what Santana sounds like when she's drunk, but they play the game they've always played and Santana continues, _I just- I just wanted to hear your voice, and-_

_You're drunk, San_, Brittany accuses gently, a small ounce of amusement in her low voice. It's _early_-late, and she doesn't want to wake her family, even though it's Friday and they can sleep in tomorrow, or even today, since it's _early_-late so it's really Saturday, isn't it?

_B, I just really miss you okay? Why do I have to be drunk to miss you?_ Santana teases, and Brittany recognizes her flirty tone, her desperate tone, her _please just play along_ tone, and answers Santana silently in her own head- _because I know you think too much, I know you'd restrain yourself from calling me like this otherwise_- but Brittany drops it, Brittany plays along, because- well, it's Santana, and Brittany never stood a chance.

_I wish I was lying next to you right now_, Santana tells her, but it sounds like something else. Her voice has lowered into a seductive tone, and Brittany knew before she answered the phone what was going to happen, because it's been happening for weeks, for months, for _years_.

_San_, Brittany sighs. She recognizes Santana's bedroom voice, her _sex_ voice, and she imagines Santana's dark eyes, _remembers_ what it felt like to have them tracing her body predatorily, and she shivers despite herself. It still feels like cheating, but she's still not sure who she's even cheating on.

_You don't want me? _

Brittany wants Santana so, so much.

_I do- I always want you_, Brittany reassures Santana, breathless, helpless. Her grip on the phone tightens, and she closes her eyes. She wishes Santana was in bed beside her. She hates the distance, she hates Sam, she hates _Santana_ for making her _feel_-

_I want you too. I want you right_ now._ God, I've been thinking about wanting you all day. _Santana's words are like honey, sweet and smooth and almost too much. Brittany feels like she's melting, feels the heat pooling low in her stomach, feels her heart pounding, yet she's untouched. Her pulse is racing and her breath is speeding up, and oh, God, how does Santana do it? Brittany never stood a chance.

_Santana-_ Brittany half-gasps, half-moans, shivers, _aches_. Silence stretches between them for a long moment. Santana waits, knowing- _hoping_- that Brittany is powerless, knowing- _hoping_- that Brittany will cave.

And Santana's not wrong. Brittany listens to Santana listening to Brittany's breaths growing increasingly ragged, and she can't help herself- _What were you thinking about?_- Brittany asks it in her own bedroom voice, and she feels relief, she feels her confusion lifting, she feels so good giving in to her desire.

Does she feel guilty? Maybe a little, but Santana is her home, her safe place, Santana is her everything- her past, her present, her future, Santana is what matters.

_I was thinking about how much I miss the way you taste_, Santana answers her with a moan.

Brittany's breath hitches- _Yeah?_- and arousal shoots through her, her center throbbing as she imagines Santana buried between her thighs, _remembers_ Santana buried between her thighs, and Brittany's hand is diving down beneath her panties before she can stop herself.

_Yeah_, Santana pants into the phone, and the sound sends a shiver down Brittany's spine, _fuck, I'm so turned on thinking about it, B._

Brittany bites her lip. _Touch yourself-_

_I am._ Santana lets loose an animalistic, filthy groan and Brittany feels herself aching, imagining what Santana's fingers are doing to herself, wishing she could watch them, but wishing she was touching Santana instead_. I'm so wet for you, B_, Santana tells her, and automatically, Brittany's entering herself with two fingers, feeling her own wetness, imagining Santana's fingers inside her, _remembering_ Santana's fingers inside her.

_Yeah? For me?_ She asks, and she knows already that she's not going to last long. Sometimes when they do this, they tease each other for hours, build each other up by describing everything they are doing, or would be doing if they were together, right down to the removal of socks and hair ties. But sometimes, it's fast and hard and they come before they can even tell each other what they want (even though it doesn't matter because they always, always know each other's wants before they say.)

Brittany knows that tonight, Santana is drunk, and horny, and it will be a fast and hard night. She wonders if Santana was at a party, if she'd been smoking, if she-

_Always for you_, Santana professes, her breathing rough, her voice strained. Brittany can tell by the pitch that Santana's fucking herself, but her words-

Brittany winces at Santana's words, halts the movement of her own hand. _Not_ always. Brittany knows Santana isn't alone in Louisville, just like Brittany's not alone in Lima-

And as if knowing Brittany's thoughts, Santana reassures her, _No one gets me as wet as you do, B. No one. You're the only one who can make me like this- fuck, I want you so, so much._

Brittany wants Santana so, so much. She's shaking with the amount of desire she feels, and her heart is pounding, threatening to break. Her hand resumes its movement with renewed vigor, and she's both surprised and even more aroused at how completely soaked she is.

Their conversation devolves into a chorus of low grunts and moans as they both rush to get themselves off _together_, and Santana's breathy announcement of _I'm close, B_ has Brittany cursing, _Fuck, Santana_ before sending herself hurtling over the edge, her back arching off the bed as her fingers continue to thrust through her orgasm, just like Santana's fingers would.

Santana's crying out _Brittany_ in her release into the phone seconds later, and their breaths are heavy and ragged as they lie in separate cities, in separate states, maybe even separate worlds, and ride out the aftershocks of their separate orgasms. Brittany has never felt closer to Santana. Brittany has never felt farther from Santana. She listens to Santana's breathing slow into deep, steady breaths.

She misses those breaths.

Brittany's heart is still racing, still pounding in her chest, and she feels tears springing to her eyes as the line goes silent except for their breathing. But Brittany feels like she _can't_ breathe. Brittany feels like her heart is breaking, like her heart breaks a little more each time they do this.

It's not supposed to feel like this.

Brittany wants Santana so, so much.

_I love you, Brittany_, Santana says, breaking the silence that had fallen over them. Her voice sounds a lot more sober, a lot more sad, a lot more watery and unsteady and Brittany's chest hurts even more.

_I love you, Santana_, Brittany returns, chewing her lip and willing herself not to cry. She knows Santana is doing the same on the other end, she can hear it in the way her breaths grow shaky, in the way her voice wavers.

_I just- I just really-_ Santana's voice cracks.

_I know, San_. Brittany knows. She does. But-

_We're almost there, though, you know? You're almost done-_

_Yeah, almost,_ Brittany says, though _almost_ doesn't quite feel like soon enough. Nothing will ever be soon enough.

It's silent.

_I love you_, Brittany says first this time, because she can never _not_ say it, because she _does_, and because she wants Santana to know, wants Santana to hold on, wants Santana to wait for her, because unofficially doesn't mean _officially_, and she needs to hold on to hope because it's the only thing driving her.

_I love you_, Santana says back, firmer this time, and Brittany swallows.

_Will you text me tomorrow?_ Brittany asks, though she knows the answer already, she just hopes it will be different, hopes, hopes, hopes-

_You know I will._

Brittany _does_ know- knows Santana won't because Santana will feel guilty, Santana will feel pain, and Santana will want to bury it all and she can only do that if she's not reminded of Brittany's fragile existence. Brittany's mouth tastes bitter suddenly and she wonders again why she still keeps her ringer on, why she still wakes up in the middle of the night to feel so elated, so disappointed, yet so, so loved. Brittany doesn't call Santana out on her lie- Santana means well, and they both know she's lying, and they both know that Brittany knows she's lying, and they both know that Santana knows that Brittany know's she's lying. Instead, she just says, _Okay. Good night, San._

Santana exhales, _Good night, B._

Brittany listens to the lingering pause, to Santana's breaths- she misses those breaths- and then Santana hangs up first, and Brittany's left cradling the phone against her ear, wishing she could cradle Santana to her instead.

It still feels like cheating, but now that Santana's breaths are gone, she's not sure who she's cheating on anymore.

Brittany wants Santana so, so much.

Brittany wishes she could cradle Santana to her, but instead she cradles her phone close and cries herself to sleep.

* * *

**THANK GOD FOR GLEE HIATUS. **

**This story will also probably be on hiatus until Glee returns; then only like one or two more chapters because once episode 13 rolls around BRITTANA WILL BE BACK and I won't have to occupy my time writing angsty one-shots. 8)~**

**One can only hope. :')**


	3. What it is to Burn

**HELLO.**

**No Glee this week, thank the good Lord Cheesus, but I decided to update anyways because reasons, idk, stop asking questions and just HERE HAVE SOME ANGSTY STRAP-ON SMUT OKAY.**

* * *

_Like a bad star, I'm falling faster down to her_

_She's the only one who knows what it is to burn_

Brittany knows who it is before she even turns around, and, not for the first time, she asks the universe why it continues to dangle Santana in front of her, like Santana's a catnip-filled toy mouse and Brittany's Lord Tubbington. She supposes it's some kind of cosmic punishment that she has to endure for all the bad things she's done- that she _continues_ to do- even though _how could they be bad_ if they involve her loving Santana the way she does?

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Brittany knew Santana would be in Lima for Christmas, knew she'd have to face Santana at some point, but not like this. She didn't think Santana would be at Marley's Christmas party, but then- she'd forgotten that Santana and Marley were friends thanks to Sectionals, and thanks to the great laughing universe (_of course she would be_.)

Panic seizes her, turns her stomach ice-block cold, when she sees the back of Santana's body, standing near Tina and probably holding a _red solo cup_- and Brittany's here with _Sam_. She'd recognize Santana's hair- the way it shines, the way it flows, the way it feels, silk-like between her fingers, the way it feels clenched in her fist when she's coming hard- anywhere. But even if Santana goes suddenly hairless, Brittany knows her figure, has spent countless nights memorizing the shape and the curve and the softness. Brittany knows, and even if she tries, she would never, never forget.

When Santana turns around, though, Brittany forgets how to breathe.

Their eyes meet, and the ice block in Brittany's stomach melts instead into a lake of lava, and suddenly the room feels too hot. She swallows uneasily, hyper-aware of the warm presence by her side, the boy whose eyes do not ignite her insides like a volcano.

Brittany's here with Sam.

Santana studies Brittany briefly, dark eyes suddenly darker as Santana's mind makes sense of things. They had never talked about _who_ they were spending time under, but now Brittany feels caught red-handed, ashamed, naked- even though she knows she has nothing to be ashamed of, except maybe that she's been cheating (though she still doesn't know _who_ she's cheating on.)

People greet them, make pleasantries, and she tries to smile through the lump in her throat, but everything stops when Sam says in that big, dopey voice, _We got married._

Brittany's eyes cut immediately to Santana's, unsure and a little afraid- Santana's expression is unreadable but just a little bit harder around the edges, and Brittany fights the dryness in her mouth and the hard pounding of her heart to chime in, _I'm his Mayan star wife_ and force a smile.

It's the Saturday before Christmas, and the world didn't end, but with the way Santana's eyes are burning holes in Brittany, Brittany thinks maybe _her_ world did. A million questions pop up from their friends, and Brittany can't slip away to explain to Santana that she never believed in that Mayan Apocalypse, that she had to pretend for Sam's sake, that she had to participate because that's what girlfriends did for their boyfriends, and Brittany was Sam's girlfriend, wasn't she?

If Sam notices (he never notices, not like Santana) her tension, he doesn't let on. He continues to laugh and joke and keeps his hand pressed intimately to the small of her back, and Brittany feels the warmth of it through her clothes, feels it burning her, feels Santana's eyes burning her, but she can only burn and do nothing.

Brittany's here with Sam.

The night drags on, but Brittany finds herself alone with Santana briefly in the kitchen, while Marley is showing Sam some of her designer thrift store clothes, and Brittany wishes she could feel even an ounce of jealous that her Mayan star _husband_ is with another girl; but all she can do is swallow and fidget under Santana's gaze while Santana coolly sips her drink.

_You married him_, Santana says, her voice icy, like the ice block that's suddenly back in Brittany's stomach. She wishes it were a lava lake again.

_It wasn't real_, Brittany says, but her voice is smaller, weaker than she wishes it was, and she can't help averting her eyes to the floor. She feels like she let Santana down, but she didn't- Santana _told_ her to- she _told her_-

_It's real to _him, Santana nearly growls, and it's enough to bring Brittany's gaze back up to Santana's face. Santana's eyes are dark, and like miniature ice blocks themselves, and the frigid edge in them makes Brittany shiver and swallow thickly.

_But not to me_, Brittany says back, firmer, growing angry now- because Santana _told_ her to- she _told her_- and it's not like Brittany actually went and got married, it's not like she hasn't been keeping the important things- her heart, her soul- safe for Santana, because she has.

It's silent between them for a moment, tense and uncomfortable, until Sam comes up next to her and plants a big sloppy trouty kiss on her cheek. Brittany cringes, sees her expression mirrored on Santana's face.

Brittany's here with Sam.

_Ready?_ Sam asks lovingly, and Brittany nods, because they have plans, _together_ plans, husband-and-wife plans, and they were only stopping by the party to say hi. They say good-byes to everyone, but Brittany can't meet Santana's eyes, and the ice block that's in Brittany's stomach has grown, has frozen her heart and made her feel numb all over as she follows Sam out the front door and to his beat-up old truck.

It's freezing outside, but Brittany doesn't notice. She's too cold inside to care.

* * *

Later, when she's underneath Sam, she tries to push thoughts of Santana out of her mind. She tries not to shiver when Sam touches her, tries not to mumble out Santana's name, and chokes back her sob when he enters her. Sam's not bad, but he's not Santana, and Brittany feels cheap and guilty and sad and hopes Santana is okay by herself.

When Sam kisses her on her cheek and curls up behind her, Brittany feels cold, even with his warmth pressed up against her. Sam holds her tighter; his deep, even breathing usually calms her, but not like Santana's does- and she feels even guiltier, because Sam is content and blissfully unaware.

Sam is nice. Sam is beautiful. Sam is tender, caring, and comforting.

Sam is not Santana.

* * *

The next night Brittany answers the phone call she knew was coming. She and Santana had spent every Christmas Eve together with Brittany's family since junior high, even when they were dating other people, _especially_ when they were dating other people, but this year, Brittany's family is out of state to visit family, and Brittany's spending most of her time with Sam, anyways.

Brittany answers the phone call she knew was coming, but she can barely get out a syllable before Santana's talking.

_Christmas Eve,_ Santana says, clipped, like she's angry that Christmas Eve exists, even though it's not Christmas Eve's fault that it exists, or that they're _not_ girlfriends, or that Brittany's fake-married to Sam.

_Tomorrow night_, Brittany says, because she doesn't know what else to say.

It's silent for a moment. Santana takes a deep breath- to calm herself, Brittany knows.

_Are we still-_ Santana cuts off, too unsure or too scared to ask what Brittany knows Santana wants to ask.

Now it's Brittany's turn to take a deep breath, Brittany's turn to calm herself, because she knows Santana is not going to like when she says_, I- I made plans with Sam._ Brittany holds her breath.

_With _Sam_?_ Santana asks, her voice steady but monotone. _With Sam,_ she repeats, and this time Brittany can hear the flare of anger, the beginning of the storm. Brittany remembers junior year, remembers Santana's panic, remembers _He's just a stupid boy,_ and she feels the ice block beginning to return to her stomach as Santana breathes_, What about Christmas Eve?_

_What about it?_ Brittany asks, getting angry herself, because, Santana _told_ her- she _told her_- and Santana _didn't_ tell her she was coming or that Christmas Eve was still happening and Brittany may be able to read Santana's mind a lot of the time but it's harder when Brittany's in Lima and Santana's in Louisville.

_We always spend Christmas Eve together,_ Santana nearly snarls, and Brittany's stomach is a full-on ice block again, the numb feeling has begun to take over, and she swallows and tries to control the waver in her voice, in her reply.

_Well, we aren't officially together-_

_ We are _unofficially_ together-_

_ You told me to date other people-_

_ But not to _replace_ me, Brittany!_ Santana's nearly yelling, and her voice is breaking, and Brittany can hear the tears in it, and she's so, so confused. _Not to replace me_, Santana says again, softer, weaker, and Brittany's pretty sure her whole body has frozen solid.

* * *

It's Christmas Eve and Brittany's alone in her dark house when there's a knock at the door. She knows who it is before she answers, just like she always does. Because she already told Sam that she wasn't feeling well, and she knew Santana would show up, anyways. Because it's Christmas Eve.

When she sees Santana framed in the doorway, Brittany forgets how to breathe.

Wordlessly, Santana enters the house, takes her coat and shoes off. They avoid each other's eyes as Brittany leads her to the living room, where the Christmas tree is. Santana silently moves into the kitchen to make hot chocolate, and Brittany builds a fire in the fireplace, just like her father taught her three winters ago. The fire's caught and spreading when Santana returns with two mugs of steaming hot chocolate, and Brittany takes hers and sips it, a smile coming to her lips at the fact that Santana made it just the temperature that Brittany likes, because she doesn't like it too hot, because then she can't drink it right away (Sam never notices, not like Santana.)

They sit on the floor in front of the fire, side by side, and Brittany wraps the blanket around them silently, carefully, holding her hot chocolate in one hand and the blanket in the other. The only light comes from the Christmas tree and the fireplace, and Brittany steals a glance at Santana's face, watching the firelight dance in her dark eyes.

The lava lake is back, warming her stomach, buzzing under her skin, and with the blanket and the fireplace, Brittany feels entirely stifled, and she shifts uncomfortably next to Santana, her bare arm brushing against Santana's clothed one.

_You married him_, Santana accuses quietly, and Brittany huffs angrily, because she can't quite believe they're having this circular argument again, and especially not on Christmas Eve-

But then Santana's kissing her, and it's steamy and sultry and Brittany's panting, gasping for air because it's too hot and she can't breathe and Santana's pushing her down onto her back and attacking her neck and Brittany's letting her fingers slip through Santana's dark hair.

_I wanted to marry _you, Brittany rasps, her eyes catching Santana's brown ones, which look like melted chocolate- on fire- with the light from the fireplace flickering in them. They're warm and angry and loving, but closing as Santana's nipping at her bottom lip, sucking it, and Brittany's hips are canting upwards into Santana's, and, oh-

Brittany pulls back in disbelief, shocked that Santana feels like she has something to prove, but Brittany knows she can't and won't talk Santana out of it, because they both need to affirm that Santana is the one she belongs to, so instead she reaches down and tugs Santana's pants open, pushing them off her hips, freeing her.

Santana is clawing at Brittany's clothes, and Brittany struggles to undress, because Santana won't let her sit up, and won't stop kissing her, and won't stop sucking on her neck (Sam never notices, not like Santana- still, she's thankful for scarves and winter) and won't stop groping her breasts, and Brittany just feels overwhelmed with heat and desire.

The lava lake has spread to Brittany's whole body, igniting her nerves, heating her skin. Brittany's face is flushed, and she can feel sweat drip down her temple. Santana's hair is damp where she grips it tightly in her fingers, as Santana's tongue burns a searing path down her body.

Brittany feels cheap and guilty and sad, but when Santana enters her, Brittany's crying out with abandon, not holding Santana's name back from her lips, not pushing thoughts of Santana out of her mind, and nothing has ever felt more right. Her mind can only think Santana, her eyes can only see Santana, and Brittany can only feel Santana inside her heart, soul, and now body.

Santana slides her arms under Brittany's shoulders, holding her close, and it's the main reason Brittany loves when Santana fucks her with the strap-on, because she feels loved and secure and intimate in a way that fingers and mouth can't grant. She feels the beat of Santana's heart against her own, she feels Santana inside her, stroking her, filling her completely, she feels Santana's sweaty forehead against her own, their hair sticking in places.

With each thrust of her hips, Santana's reaffirming her claim, reassuring Brittany that Santana can do it as well as Sam, _better_ than Sam, that _no one_ can fill Brittany the way Santana does, make Brittany _feel_ the way Santana does, make Brittany _come_ the way Santana does, and Brittany's only response is _yes, yes, yes, yes, yes_.

Brittany doesn't need Santana to fuck her with a fake dick to prove that Brittany belongs to Santana. Brittany has only ever belonged to Santana, and Brittany loves the things Santana gives her that no one else can. Santana builds her up, kissing the spot on Brittany's neck where Brittany likes to be kissed when they're together like this (Sam never notices, not like Santana.)

Santana's strokes are long and deep and slow, and Brittany feels every inch as it pushes in and slides out, back and forth, until Brittany's at the edge and then over it, and without thinking she's crying out Santana's name, arching off the blanket, tugging Santana's hair and shaking.

When Santana comes between her legs with a strangled cry of Brittany's name, Brittany forgets to breathe.

Brittany cradles Santana to her, kisses the top of her head, strokes lazily down her back and pillows Santana's head on her chest. They're both breathing deeply, panting- Brittany feels too hot, sweaty where Santana's skin is pressed to her skin.

Santana presses a kiss to her chest and lifts her head, and they stare at each other for long, silent moments.

_I wanted to marry _you_,_ Brittany repeats in a devastated whisper.

Santana swallows. _I know._

* * *

**Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays all that.**

**I may decide to do a NYE themed update next week if inspiration strikes, but don't hold your breath or anything. **

**As for the Bram!Wedding, I chose to go with the legendary JJ's take on it and believe that Brittany knew it wasn't real the whole time. If you're confused on how that could be possible, I suggest you read JJ's analysis, its very insightful. :D**

**the usual: themostrandomfandom dot tumblr dot com slash post slash 37894660912 slash and-now-for-your-quick-draw-take-it-or-leave-it**

**Read it, you won't regret it!**


	4. Suffocate

**Hello. Hope you all had a great holiday. As you can see, I got inspired. So here's a NYE themed one-shot. Enjoy. :)**

**Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, whatever-ed the last chapter. Okay, now have some angsty (but slightly fluffier than my previous three chapters) smut! :D**

* * *

_I can't go a day without you_

_And see, nobody else will ever do_

_I'll never feel like I feel with you_

Brittany knows whose arms are around her before she is fully awake, and, not for the first time, she feels the tightness in her chest as her heart aches- breaks- with longing. Longing for things to be different between her and Santana, longing for Santana's arms to be real and not temporary, not fleeting, not gone in an instant. She remembers the way Santana had loved her the night before, had held her tight, had kissed her and whispered her feelings into Brittany's jaw and promised, promised, promised. Her heart thumps painfully because it's a new day, and it's not last night anymore, and she never knows how Santana is going to react in the daylight.

Still, Brittany enjoys Santana's arms around her more than she can say; they remind her of a time when Santana's arms were real and not temporary, not fleeting, not gone in an instant. She revels in the warm pressure, almost as if she is encased in love, and sighs softly. She will take all the comfort she can get. She will pretend as long as she can.

When Santana kisses her bare shoulder, breathes over her skin, promises to call her later, Brittany holds herself together, barely- and tries to remember to breathe. Santana peels herself away from Brittany and Brittany watches her go, noticing the tightness in Santana's eyes- mimicking the tightness in Brittany's own chest- and hopes that Santana's not running away, that Santana will keep her promise that they will spend New Year's Eve together just as they have for years.

Her skin is cold in Santana's absence. Santana's like a furnace, like the sun- if the sun was dark- or maybe just like lava or hot, hot pavement. Her skin radiates heat, makes Brittany sweat, but without her Brittany shivers, Brittany's frigid, Brittany _misses_. (It's always easier to notice something's gone once you've had it.)

Brittany spares a hesitant thought for Sam- she cares for him, she does- but Sam is not Santana, and Santana is everything, and if Santana is everything, then Sam is what's left over, and Brittany's not sure there's anything left, anyways, since _everything_ belongs to Santana.

Eventually, Brittany climbs out of bed. New Year's Eve used to be exciting for her, full of anticipation and surprises and no doubts about who she'd be giving her Midnight Kiss to. It was always a sure thing, even when she dated other people, because Santana was _hers_ and she was Santana's, and though their partners changed from month to month throughout high school, their _belonging_ never did.

Now, Brittany's so, so confused. High school is over, but it's not. She's stuck in limbo repeating her senior year, only without the thing that made school worth struggling through, without the person who loves her the most. (It's always easier to notice something's gone once you've had it.)

She doesn't know who she should give her Midnight Kiss to, because Santana left her behind- but Santana didn't. Santana broke up with her- but Santana didn't. Brittany's dating Sam- but Midnight Kisses are supposed to be about optimism, about hope, and Brittany only hopes for Santana.

Brittany goes about her day, trying not to worry about midnight, about Santana, about Sam. She eats lunch with her family and when they ask her about her big plans for midnight, she gives a noncommittal shrug and a hum, and avoids the questions in their eyes, and tries to remember to breathe. Even _she_ doesn't know what she's doing. Only Santana does- if Santana calls her- and if not, she's still not sure she has it in her to spend the evening with Sam, though he's left her countless voicemails asking if she's been feeling better (she'd told him she was still sick from Christmas, and in a way, she is- heartsick, lovesick.)

When the phone rings again, Brittany tries not to get her hopes up- she tells herself it must be Sam again, but when she looks at the screen and sees Santana's achingly beautiful face smiling back at her next to her own, her heart skips a beat (remember to breathe) and she swallows thickly and answers.

Santana doesn't make small talk. She gets straight to the point, telling Brittany to be at her house at 9pm, and Brittany's stomach drops, but Brittany doesn't know if it's good or bad. She wants Santana so, so much, but she's still dating Sam, and she knows it's cheating, but she still doesn't want to answer the question of who's being cheated on. Is it cheating if your _everything_ belongs to someone, but you're in a superficial, labelled relationship with someone else? Brittany's so, so confused.

She knows she should text Sam- but she doesn't feel right, doesn't want to lie to him. Sam is nice. Sam is beautiful. Sam is tender, caring and comforting, but Santana is everything, and Sam is what's left over, and Brittany doesn't want to have that conversation with him yet, not when she knows that Santana's arms are temporary, fleeting, gone in an instant.

Brittany hates the cold without Santana. (It's always easier to notice something's gone once you've had it.)

* * *

At 8:47pm, Brittany's sitting in her car in Santana's driveway, freezing and listening to her stomach silently tie itself in knots. She shouldn't be this nervous to see Santana- they were just together last night- but something about the gravity of the Midnight Kiss has her feeling anxious and worried. Midnight Kisses are about optimism and hope, and Brittany only hopes for Santana.

At 8:57pm, Brittany tries to remember to breathe, and enters the unlocked, dark house. Silently, she takes off her shoes and ventures up the stairs. When she reaches Santana's room and finds it equally dark, she calls out.

_In here, B_, Santana's smooth voice reaches her, and Brittany swallows nervously and follows the sound of her voice to Santana's parents' bathroom. When she sees Santana, she swallows thickly (remember to breathe) and her heart skips a beat.

Santana's standing near the bathtub, dressed in a silky nightgown, holding two glasses of champagne. The only light in the room comes from candles that flick shadows across Santana's dark features, and the bathtub (Santana's parents have one of the Jacuzzi-style ones) is full and inviting and Santana's lips are full and inviting, and suddenly Santana is smiling, smiling at her and Brittany's heart is pounding so hard her chest feels like it might break and she tries, tries, tries to remember to breathe.

_Hey,_ Santana says softly, bringing Brittany's focus back to her, and Brittany feels her cheeks heating up slightly at having been caught staring. _Here_, Santana offers her a glass of champagne, and Brittany's heart aches- breaks- at the small strawberry Santana impaled on the rim of the glass _for Brittany_, at Santana's attention to detail _for Brittany_, at Santana's perfection _for Brittany_. Brittany will never not be amazed at how sweet and romantic Santana can be, at the lengths Santana goes to swoon her. Santana will never not be Brittany's _everything._

_Are you hungry?_ Santana asks, snapping Brittany back into the present, and Brittany blinks at the plate of fruit Santana holds out to her. _It's supposed to be good luck or whatever_, Santana mutters sheepishly, and Brittany smiles, her heart aching all over again as she plucks a slice of kiwi from the plate and slides it into her mouth.

Brittany's eyes don't miss the way Santana's eyes trace over Brittany's lips, following the path of the kiwi into her mouth, and as Brittany swallows, she senses the air charging between them, thick with tension and something else, something familiar to Brittany for a very long time.

_Thank you_, Brittany says hesitantly, her eyes searching Santana's face to keep from raking over Santana's body. Santana's wearing that silk nightgown and Brittany wants to know what it feels like under her fingers, wants to see what it looks like tossed carelessly on the floor beside the tub. Instead, she takes a long drink of her champagne, draining the glass and earning a surprised look from Santana. She picks the strawberry off the rim of the glass and eases it between her teeth, biting into it, and watches Santana swallow.

Their eyes meet. Santana's are dark and full of desire, full of longing, and Brittany imagines hers are the same way as Santana steps to her, gently taking Brittany's empty champagne glass from her hand, and sets both glasses down on the bathtub shelf behind her. Brittany trembles in anticipation, but then Santana's kissing her- she tastes like strawberries- and Santana's tongue is gliding out against Brittany's lips, warm and wet, silky like the silk nightgown Brittany's bunching up in her hands, and Santana's pressing against her and Brittany feels her heart pounding again.

Santana's hands are warm, like a furnace, like the sun- if the sun was tan and soft and strong- or maybe just lava, or hot, hot pavement as they soothe over Brittany's skin. Santana carefully begins to undress her, her movements slow and reverent. Santana murmurs, _Just- just let me-_ and her eyes say, _Please, B_ and Brittany closes her own eyes and sighs, feeling too much but still craving more, threatening to explode but trembling with desire. Brittany wants Santana so, so much. Santana's lips travel her body, kissing her, exploring her, and Brittany struggles to remain standing, struggles to remember to breathe.

Finally, after what feels like hours, days, years have passed, Santana leads Brittany to the tub, helps her in, and drops her own silky nightgown to the floor in one deft movement. Brittany stares at Santana (remember to breathe), watches her as she climbs gracefully into the tub and shifts them until Brittany is lying back in Santana's warm arms. Brittany protests at first- she wants to hold Santana- but Santana doesn't allow it. Santana says, _I want to hold you- let me hold you_, and her eyes say, _Please, B_, and Brittany relents, leaning back against Santana's soft, firm body. (Brittany never stood a chance.)

There's a party, somewhere- there always is, New Year's Eve or not- but Brittany would rather hide away with Santana (intimate with Santana, like a secret, _safe_) and pretend Santana's arms are real and not temporary, not fleeting, not gone in an instant, than spend her moments in harsh reality with her friends (wishing for intimacy with Santana- like a secret, _safe_.)

Brittany sighs in content- the warm water, Santana's warmer arms around her, Santana's warmer skin against her, Santana's warmer fingers trailing down her stomach, Santana's warmer lips pressing to her wet shoulder- all of it is too much and not enough. Brittany shudders as Santana sweeps Brittany's damp blonde hair aside, kisses the base of Brittany's neck, sucks at it, bites it gently, and Brittany feels her insides unraveling, wishing she could hold this moment frozen in time, that she could pretend forever. (It's always easier to notice something's gone once you've had it.)

Hands smooth over Brittany's hips, caress the soft sensitive skin of Brittany's inner thighs, and Brittany presses back into Santana, hearing the audible hitch in Santana's breathing by Brittany's ear. Brittany glances at the clock- it's 9:45pm- plenty of time before midnight, so she grips a tan wrist, pushes it down where it belongs, guides strong fingers between her legs and arches up desperately at the feather-light touch.

_Touch me- please_, Brittany gasps, shaking.

_Britt-_

_ Please, Santana- I want you so much. _

And Santana acquiesces, strokes Brittany, presses into Brittany, and Brittany rocks her hips up as Santana cradles her in her warm arms from behind. And Brittany closes her eyes, and pretends that Santana's arms are real and not temporary, not fleeting, not gone in an instant. Santana pushes deep and builds Brittany slow, tenderly carrying her to the edge with one hand splayed on Brittany's toned stomach. Warm, full lips fervently kiss Brittany's shoulder, Brittany's neck- teeth tug at Brittany's earlobe, and Brittany struggles to remember to breathe, because she _can't_, she's suffocating, she's overwhelmed. She grips Santana's thighs, which are bracketing Brittany's hips, harboring them- her ass presses back into Santana, slips against Santana. Santana's _so wet_ against her, Santana's hips buck forward automatically in response.

_B,_ Santana groans in her ear, and Brittany knows Santana's unraveling, too. Brittany reaches behind her, lets her fingers tangle in damp, dark hair, twisting her head around to kiss Santana hungrily, sucking her tongue into her mouth, biting her bottom lip hard enough to elicit a gasp; she feels Santana losing herself in the kiss, feels Santana's fingers plunging into Brittany harder, faster, racing her to the edge.

Brittany comes with a shuddering cry in Santana's mouth, her hand tightens in Santana's hair, her back arches, but she slips her free hand between their bodies to stroke Santana to her release, which comes moments later, and Santana shakes behind her, moaning into Brittany's mouth in return.

Spent, they lie lazily in the tub holding each other for a long time. Santana plants warm, wet kisses on Brittany's shoulders, and Brittany hums in content, closing her eyes and relishing the moment. They feed each other fruit and tenderly wash each other (even though they were both clean before the bath) and when they're both completely pruney and the clock says 11:23pm when Brittany glances at it, they finally get out, taking the time to dry each other, stealing kisses along the way.

Santana gives Brittany a pair of Brittany's pajamas from her drawer (Santana still kept them, because unofficial doesn't mean official) and once dressed, they make their way out into the kitchen on slippered feet. Santana prepares two cups of hot chocolate (just the way Brittany likes it) and then they're grabbing a fluffy blanket and wrapping themselves up on the porch in Santana's backyard.

It's dark- Santana left the porch light off- but they're curled into each other, and Brittany doesn't need to see Santana's face to know that she's got a wistful, content smile on it, because it mirrors Brittany's own.

They sit in silence, sipping their hot chocolate, and Brittany doesn't worry about the Midnight Kiss. They don't have a watch to count down the minutes; Brittany doesn't care. She rests her head against Santana's shoulder, pressed to Santana's warmth, and just breathes her in.

When the first fireworks blaze into the dark night sky, Santana turns to her.

_Happy New Year, B,_ Santana says, softly, and Brittany feels her chest tightening in longing.

_Happy New Year_, Brittany returns. Santana's eyes sparkle, reflecting the lights of the fireworks shooting into the sky, and Brittany tries to remember to breathe as Santana leans forward and captures her lips sweetly.

Brittany only hopes for Santana.

* * *

**Aww. :)**

**Okay, the next chapter will be on the Thursday when Glee returns- and it will be Sadie Hawkins Dance themed, because no one gives two fucks about Bram going to a Sadie Hawkins Dance together, I mean seriously, what is that shit? LOL I can't even.**

**Anyways. Enjoy the short hiatus, and thanks for reading!**

**Review if you feel like it! :D**

**See you in a couple of weeks, dearies. :)**


	5. Sweet Nothing

**Hi everyone. Glee sucks, but what else is new. I mean, I didn't watch the episode so I don't even know, but if you did- I'm sorry. :(**

**Keep calm and ship Brittana, because they are endgame no matter what trolls say.**

**Thanks to everyone for reading, reviewing, following, lurking, etc. the story. I love you all. :')**

**Happy angsting! 8)~**

* * *

_It isn't easy for me to let go_

'_Cause- I swallow every single word_

_And every whisper, every sigh_

_Eats away at this heart of mine_

_There is a hollow me, now_

Brittany knows whose perfume invades her senses before she sees her, and, not for the first time, she feels the beginnings of anger stirring in her blood. She wonders why Santana thinks she can just walk in and out of her life when it's convenient _for_ _Santana_- especially since they haven't spoken since Santana went back to Louisville after the holidays. Brittany wonders at _unofficial_, and how Santana even knew there was a Sadie Hawkins dance tonight-

But all those feelings get pushed aside as leather-clad arms slide around her waist, pulling her back into a still supple- but significantly _shorter_ than she's been used to the past few weeks- body, and she sighs, she relaxes, her eyes slide closed in unrestrained bliss because _Santana_, and-

Her eyes snap open, dart around quickly. She's here with Sam, and Sam will unfortunately be returning to break her perfect moment very soon with the drink he had gone to procure for her. Her heart flutters, just barely, at his consideration. Consideration- something the body attached to the arms around her has obviously forgotten.

_Santana_, Brittany sighs, the slightest hint of anger in her tone. She struggles to turn, for Santana's arms have not loosened, and she feels mild panic in her for a moment- what if someone _sees_?- before pushing it aside. She doesn't care- she's never cared. That's always been for Santana to do, and at the moment Santana doesn't seem to, either.

Santana's eyes are dark, burning, like a firestorm- she's got the possessive look in her eye that tells Brittany that Santana knows Brittany's been dancing- a respectable distance from, but _still_- with _Sam_ all evening- has asked _Sam_ to a dance when _Santana_ has only ever been her date to dances, and she's not happy about it.

But how can Santana get upset? She told her to- she _told_ her-

Brittany glares in response to Santana's heated gaze, but it's just a front. She's beyond happy that Santana is here, is standing in her arms, is looking at her like that. So she sighs, and she caves, and she offers Santana a half smile. _Not here_, she says lowly, and Santana smirks in response, as if she's just won a battle- and maybe she has.

_Come with me_, Santana breathes, and Brittany feels Santana's warm hand slipping into her own, their fingers lacing together as Santana tugs her gracefully through the crowd of dancing people and out the side door of the gymnasium, into darkness.

Once the door closes with an audible click, Brittany is assaulted with Santana's lips on hers, warm and wet and claiming, as teeth graze her bottom lip and Santana's free hand moves to blatantly grab her ass through her silver dress, pulling Brittany closer, pulling their bodies together flush.

Brittany kisses back, trying to convey to Santana how angry she is but softening the blow with loving nips and licks, and Santana accepts her anger and returns her own, their teeth clashing as the kiss picks up in ferocity and Brittany's back hits the doorframe.

_Not here_, she repeats, but a lot more breathless; Santana hums in her throat, her eyes burning holes into Brittany, and she turns, leading Brittany around the corner. Their footsteps echo in the dark, empty halls and Brittany feels her heart racing as Santana guides them to one of their old _spots_. It's a small niche in a brick wall downstairs, in an older, empty wing of the school, behind a sharp corner. It was never the most ideal place, because it wasn't like they were the only ones in the entire school who knew of its existence, which made the risk of getting caught pretty high; but now, with the school mostly deserted except for the people at the dance, and the chaperones concerned with punch-spiking attempts, there was very little chance of them being found out.

Brittany's stomach clenches in anticipation as Santana brings them to a stop in front of the alcove and then traces her fingers over the rough, unpainted texture of the brick. Brittany watches as Santana seemingly gets caught up in remembrances of previous moments spent against the wall, and takes the opportunity to trace her eyes over Santana's form. Santana's dressed in all black with her hair up, like she's a ninja or maybe a jewel-thief or even a robber, since she _stole_ Brittany from the dance. Santana's wearing her black leather jacket with the hood, tight black pants and high-heeled boots. Under her jacket is a purple-striped shirt but Brittany's eyes linger the longest on Santana's exposed neck, and she's overcome with the urge to bury her face there in the warmth and just breathe Santana in like she's some sort of exotic drug. Brittany licks her lips- she wants Santana so, so much.

The next thing she knows, Brittany's being pressed up into the brick wall and Santana's kissing her again roughly, and Brittany feels angry and guilty all at once. She'd been doing this with Santana for weeks- for _months_ while dating Sam- but never while Sam was in the same building. She'd asked Sam to the dance because she'd felt guilty, heartbroken, lonely, _unofficial_. She didn't even really want to go to the dance- she'd only ever had Santana as her date to dances- but that's what _girlfriends_ did, right? They asked their boyfriends to Sadie Hawkins dances, and went with them even if they were thinking of someone else and remembering the previous year's Prom instead-

Santana bites down harshly on Brittany's lower lip, and Brittany gasps, reminded of the fact that she's currently cheating on Sam- because it _is_ cheating, of that Brittany's completely sure. Her guilt turns to anger as Santana's hands return to cupping and groping her ass, the feeling sending a jolt of arousal straight down to her groin. Sam is her boyfriend, and Santana told her to date other people, but she hasn't respected her and Sam's relationship or treated it like a real thing, because _he's just a stupid boy_. Brittany can't blame her, because she doesn't feel that it is, either (maybe Brittany thinks _he's just a stupid boy_, too) - but what if it _was_? Would Santana halt? Would she keep her distance?

Would they always be _just a stupid boy_ to Santana?

Admittedly, Brittany knows she's done nothing but encourage Santana to ignore the fact that Brittany's in a relationship with Sam; but Brittany knows Santana would have, anyway. Brittany doesn't want to crumble, doesn't want to cheat, doesn't want to have to sneak off to dark, abandoned hallways with Santana anymore- they'd moved past that, hadn't they? - but she can't be without Santana, and she can't _be_ with Santana, so she allows herself to be pushed up against the brick more firmly as Santana begins to hike Brittany's dress up, enough for Santana to get her hand underneath.

Brittany swallows. She shouldn't feel guilty- she doesn't want to feel guilty. She wants Santana, but instead she has Sam- Sam, who is _not_ Santana- and she's irrationally angry at him in that moment, because _he's_ the one that asked her out when she was at her most vulnerable, _he's_ the one that put her in a position to say yes, _he's_ the one that talked her into a relationship when she tried to politely decline in her own way. She wasn't ready, she _isn't_ ready, she may _never_ be ready- she only wants Santana. And Trouty should've known what he was getting into- he watched Brittany and Arty fall apart, he watched Brittany cheat on Arty because she couldn't stay away from Santana, he watched Santana cheat on _him_ because Santana couldn't stay away from Brittany- why, why, _why_ did he think things would be different?

_He's just a stupid boy_.

Would they always be_ just a stupid boy_ to Santana?

Brittany gasps in Santana's mouth as she feels the smaller girl push her underwear to the side and enter her with two fingers. She's ready- she always is when Santana's around- but the sudden intrusion takes her by surprise. She reaches to yank Santana's ponytail out quickly, tangling her fingers in the smooth, dark locks. Brittany grips hard, pulling Santana deeper into the kiss, dominating Santana with her tongue as Santana dominates _her_ between her legs.

Santana plunges into Brittany again, harder, and Brittany breaks the kiss to gasp again, louder. _Don't you have a girl in Louisville to fuck?_ She blurts, half in anger at all her conflicting feelings. Then she moans. _Oh, _God_-_

_What's your point?_ Santana growls into Brittany's jaw, teeth nipping into Brittany's skin, and Brittany feels her heart twinge painfully- _Santana didn't deny it._ But Brittany already knew, and Brittany's underneath Sam, too, and-

_You left me_, Brittany accuses, hating herself for bringing all of these feelings up _now_, but her walls are up even though she's completely at Santana's mercy, completely exposed, and the oxymoronic emotions combined with Santana's fingers sliding through her wetness- sliding _into_ her- are making her dizzy, making her thoughts race, making her head spin.

_Because I was _hurting_ you_, Santana pants, pushing into her with more force, and Brittany takes it, takes it, takes it.

_You don't think this- fuck- hurts me worse?_ Brittany claws at Santana's neck, holding tightly. Her body is tensing, her hips move with Santana's thrusts. _I can't get over you-_

_I don't _want_ you to get over me! _

_ Then- what- _do_ you want?_ Brittany's breathless, Brittany's close, _so_ close, and she buries her face in Santana's neck, bracing herself. _Don't stop, _don't_- San- San_tan_a-_

_I want _you_, Brittany,_ Santana says, just as breathless, just as close to breaking, but differently. _I just- want- _you_._

Brittany closes her eyes, bites down on Santana's shoulder as her hips thrust forward violently and she comes, her body arching off of the brick and into Santana. She shakes, pants, clutches Santana tightly. Santana holds her for a moment before she pulls away; the expression on her face catches Brittany's attention as she leans, gasping for air and trembling, against the brick- a mess.

Santana looks lost, helpless, scared- like a trapped animal. Brittany watches Santana's throat as she swallows thickly and in a shaky voice, confesses, _I've only ever wanted you_.

Brittany feels her own throat tightening, feels tears springing to her eyes as Santana turns to leave, reluctant but quick, as if she'll break down if she stays one more second.

But Brittany doesn't have the same restraint. She breaks down immediately, the overwhelming emotions and the aftershocks of her orgasm still pulsing through her. She's still shaking; she's still _raw_, exposed, vulnerable, and she won't just let Santana walk away, not again, not right now.

_Then _why_?_ Brittany calls, her voice cracking. She releases a shuddering sob_. Why did you leave?_ Brittany knows she's giving herself away- that Santana will be able to see all her insecurities, will be able to see that _no_, she's _not_ okay with this, she's _never_ been okay with this, she's never _wanted_ this-

_Because you need more than _I_ can give you!_ Santana turns abruptly, nearly yelling the angry words at her, as if it's _Brittany's_ fault that Santana left, as if it's _Brittany's_ fault that Brittany needs more. Brittany doubts herself for second- _is_ it her fault? Did she make it seem like she needed more from Santana? She needed more- _yes_, but it was only things that _Santana_ could give her. It was only Santana she needed. Why couldn't Santana see that?

But Santana doesn't stop to address Brittany's insecurities. _You need more,_ she repeats. _Which is why we are unofficial. Which, _she says in an increasingly angry tone,_ is why I haven't smothered Trouty in his sleep with his own humongous lips for even _looking_ at you. I can't stand the thought of him touching you, Britt. But _I_ can't- I can't give you-_ she pauses, closing her eyes in anguish and shaking her head slowly. She takes a deep breath, stepping forward, moving back into arm's reach. _But I can't be completely without you, Britt-Britt,_ Santana admits, shakily. She offers her a watery smile. _You're the one that I want._

Brittany laughs, but it comes out sounding more like a sob, and reaches to wipe her eyes. _Being mature sucks_, she says lightly, but the sadness and truth of the statement rings true.

Brittany watches as Santana gently wipes a tear from her own eyes and nods. _Yeah. It does._ Santana reaches for Brittany's hand, holds it reverently a moment, strokes her thumb over the back of it and both of their eyes fall to their clasped hands as if it's the most magical scene they've ever witnessed.

Santana takes another deep breath and looks up into Brittany's blue eyes, shiny with freshly cried tears. Brittany's heart pounds in her chest at the intimate eye contact, at the warmth of Santana's hands. _I have some clothes in my car, _Santana starts- soft, cautious.

Brittany smiles, because she understands Santana. She has always understood Santana. And she understands when Santana is telling her- if Brittany _wants_ to- to ditch her _just a stupid boy_ at this stupid dance and get a milkshake with Santana instead.

And Brittany nods, squeezing Santana's hand and lacing their fingers together more securely. Because in the end, Sam is _just a stupid boy_, and Santana is her forever- is her _everything_- and there are some things Brittany is willing to give up, but there are some things- like Santana, and milkshakes, and _unofficial_- that Brittany is not.

* * *

**I'm not sure if I'm gonna do one next week or not. I have an idea for one, but we shall see. But if I do, I hope you'll be here to read it, lol.**

**Review if you feel like it! :D **

**Thanks for reading, and don't ever give up on Brittana! :')**


	6. Dreaming With A Broken Heart

**BRITTANA IS NEVER OVER. Just keep that in mind, and you'll be fine. **

**Sorry for this dose of angst. Things will get better, kids, just keep on keepin' on. **

**Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed last chapter. This is late, I know, but I had the idea since the episode so I figured I might as well toss it out here before I do the next chapter, covering the wedding. **

**Happy angst-ing. D:**

* * *

_When you're dreaming with a broken heart_

_The waking up is the hardest part__  
__Wondering could you stay, my love?_

_Will you wake up by my side?_

_No, she can't- 'cause she's gone, gone, gone, gone, gone_

Brittany knows whose car is parked in her driveway before she pulls in, and, not for the first time that day, she feels anticipation coiling in her stomach. She chews her lip nervously as she pulls in next to Santana's car, takes a deep breath to compose herself, and then climbs out, walking cautiously up to her front stoop. She doesn't know which Santana she expects to find, but she does expect Santana, and she mentally prepares herself for whatever Santana she may encounter.

Santana's sitting on the steps as Brittany walks up, still dressed in that sexy leather jacket, hair still pulled up in a tight ponytail- and Brittany has to bite her lip again as the memory of Santana's soft lips pressed briefly against hers earlier in the day resurfaces. She misses those lips.

Dark eyes trace Brittany's body, taking in her outfit, blatantly obvious in their appreciative leering, and Brittany struggles to find her voice because her mouth is suddenly dry and her throat is constricting, and her hearing is being overwhelmed with the sound of her pulse thundering in her ears.

_I thought you left_, Brittany says quietly, surprised at the steadiness of her voice. She expected Santana, but there was still a part of her that was worried she might not come (_I can't_) and Brittany's so, so relieved that she gets to see Santana one more time, even if it's under sad circumstances.

Santana shakes her head slowly, her eyes never leaving Brittany's body. _How was your date?_ Santana asks tightly, and their eyes finally meet. Brittany swallows. Santana's eyes are black, her mood is black- Santana is black, and Brittany wishes that dreams didn't come at the cost of progress made over time.

_It was-_ Brittany falters, then sighs. She doesn't want to do this. _San_, she murmurs, dropping her gaze. She just can't take Santana's intensity sometimes, it's too much. _You know why-_

_I do,_ Santana interrupts, low, the edge of her anger and bitterness and sadness audible in her voice. It makes Brittany shiver. Santana's so _black. But that doesn't mean I like it._

They are silent for a moment, regarding each other. Brittany knows what's about to happen- she expected Santana. It's why she didn't invite Sam over after their date and came straight home instead. She feels her pulse pick up at the look Santana is giving her, and she swallows again, hard.

Brittany opens her mouth. _Do you- _

_Yes._

* * *

When Brittany's underneath Santana minutes later, naked and writhing, she bites her lip and struggles to hold in her desperate moans of pleasure- her parents are home, after all, and they expected her to be out with Sam all night, not home with Santana, not _underneath_ Santana-

Brittany tugs Santana's face to hers and kisses her, trying to convey the love she has for the girl she's beneath- trying to tell Santana silently with her lips that she will always choose Santana, but in order to do that, she had to choose Sam _now_, and she hopes that it makes sense outside of her head.

Santana's emotions are more than clear in her kiss- she's sad, she's angry, she's frustrated, she's lost- and Brittany feels herself nearly close to tears, wishing she could help Santana, wishing dreams didn't come at the cost of progress made over time. Because Brittany will always put Santana first, before herself- because keeping Santana in Lima would be selfish, and Brittany can't do that- because Santana was miserable in Kentucky and she'd have Brittany in Lima but be miserable still, and Brittany knows if she hadn't chosen Sam, if she'd allowed Santana to give up her dreams, then there would be resentment, there'd be regression, and Brittany cares too much about their future, about the final chapters of their story where they are written _happily ever after_, to hold too tightly to Santana during the middle chapters. Brittany's already read the ending- and there are some things she's willing to give up, like a few boring pages devoted to Sam- but there are some things- like futures with Santana- that she isn't.

Santana reaches down to enter Brittany and Brittany grabs her wrist to deter her, bringing Santana's hand up to her face and turning to kiss Santana's palm instead. She closes her eyes as she presses her parted lips to the smooth, sensitive skin, and when she re-opens them and finds Santana's eyes- black with turmoil- she reaches up to cup Santana's face and pull her into another soft, gentle kiss. Santana's a storm inside, and Brittany does her best to calm it with soothing touches and kisses and silent words. She wraps a tender arm around Santana's lower back and rolls them, repositioning Santana's legs over hers so that her hips fit between them, and she presses her center to Santana's, watching as Santana arches beneath her, barely containing her storm.

Brittany leans down to press a fervent kiss under Santana's chin, rocking her hips slowly- it's more than just getting off to her, and she reminds Santana that there is love between them, love that exists only for Santana and not for Sam- because unlike with Arty, Brittany never said she _loved_ Sam- because _Santana_ is the one she loves, Santana is her everything, and there's no room in her heart for anyone else when all of it belongs to Santana.

Brittany rolls her hips again, kisses Santana's jaw. _I love you._ She kisses the hinge, beneath Santana's earlobe. _I love you_. She kisses her cheekbone, her temple, her forehead. _I love you, I love you, I love you. _

Santana kisses Brittany's neck, hesitant, tentative. _You love me? Then why did you choose Sam?_

_I chose you. I always choose you. You're everything to me, Santana._

Santana presses her face into Brittany's jaw, breathes over her skin, takes a shuddering breath. Her grip on Brittany tightens. _Britt-_

_ Shh,_ Brittany whispers. _I've got you._

Santana sobs with emotion, thrusts her hips up into Brittany's, allows Brittany to stroke her higher at a slow pace, allows Brittany to tear down her walls gently, pushing her way back in- and when Santana finally crumbles beneath Brittany with a strangled cry, Brittany holds her tighter, kisses her face lovingly, reassuringly, before allowing herself to come undone, too.

They hold each other, trembling, and Brittany allows Santana to kiss her fiercely for long moments before she realizes that Santana is struggling to hold in her sobs. She pulls back and Santana breaks, crying against Brittany's chest, and Brittany shifts them so that Santana is curled up against her, feeling Santana's hot tears run down her neck as Santana buries her face there, her sobs making her whole body shake.

For an instant, Brittany almost calls the whole thing off- she can't bear to see Santana in so much pain. Was she wrong? Did she make the wrong choice? Would Santana be happy being stagnant in Lima, but being with Brittany? Brittany feels her throat tightening with emotion, and she wishes again that dreams didn't come at the cost of progress made over time.

No, Santana belongs in New York. She has to stand by what she said. She's seen the _happily ever after_, and she won't give that up for anything, not even temporary happiness now. They'll have their forever in New York, Brittany _knows_- and Santana just needs to know, too.

_I love you_, Santana whimpers, her hand clutching at Brittany's shoulder. _I love you, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay? Please don't do this._

Brittany feels her own tears surfacing. _Santana,_ she says hoarsely. She can barely find her voice. Her chest feels like it's being stabbed or stepped on or both, and she can hardly breathe. Her throat hurts and to distract herself, she kisses Santana's forehead. _I love you, too, San. So, so much._

_Then _why_-_

_ Because you say the dream and I help build the dream, remember?_ Brittany says firmly, trying to hold on to her resolve. Trying to hold on to her own tears. Trying to just _hold on_-

Santana freezes, and Brittany holds her breath as Santana lifts her head and dark eyes regard Brittany's thoroughly. They stare at each other for long moments, Santana's gaze deep and intense, and Brittany feels anxious under her stare, feels words- confessions- trying to bubble out of her throat but she _can't,_ she can't tell Santana out loud because it will ruin everything-

Brittany can't tell Santana that when she said Sam made her feel smart, she didn't mean in the way Santana makes her feel smart. Sam will never make Brittany feel as smart as Santana makes her feel, but she can't compare everything to Santana- because nobody will ever be Santana, nobody will ever be perfect for Brittany like Santana is perfect for Brittany.

_It hurts that you're choosing Sam_, Santana confesses in a whisper, but Brittany knows that she means _It hurts that we have to be apart_ and her eyes are so dark and Santana's so black and she looks into Brittany's eyes, so intense it makes Brittany shiver, makes her stomach tense and the hairs on the back of her neck tingle, but then Santana's eyes are softening. Her edges are becoming less sharp, and Brittany watches the gradual shift from black to brown in Santana.

Santana _knows_ now. Santana says, _It isn't fair, Brittany_, and Brittany hears the silent _that you should give up so much for my dreams,_ but Santana's still talking, still telling Brittany that she's_ never giving up on them_, and that she _may go off to New York, _but she's_ not going off to find a girlfriend_, and Brittany's breath catches in her throat as she realizes Santana _does_ know, she _does_ get it, and maybe Santana's finally read the end of their story, the _happily ever after_.

* * *

When Brittany wakes up the next morning after Santana is gone, she's overcome with sadness. Santana's in New York, and all Brittany feels is empty, because it's hard to remember the ending of a story when you're living in the middle chapters.

It isn't fair that Brittany should give up so much for Santana's dreams, because Brittany gave up her _own_ dreams for Santana.

Because Santana is Brittany's dream.

And now her dream is gone.

* * *

**Oh man, I can't wait until Brittana get back together. :')**

**It will get better, I promise! Even if the show doesn't- which it WILL- I'll make sure this story has a happy ending. :)**

**Review if you're still alive and feel like it. If not, see you next time! **


	7. Picture

**Hello. Not too much angst this time, I don't think. Buuuut it's still angsty, lol. I can't wait until the show gets fluffy again so I can write something that's not sad and awful. These depressing-ass songs I keep choosing for inspiration aren't really helping either, lmao, sorry everyone!**

**Thanks for reading, though! And also, thanks for reviewing! Now leave me alone to die. **

**Happy angst-ing! D:**

* * *

_I put your picture away  
I wonder where you've been  
I can't look at you while I'm lying  
Next to him_

Brittany knows who's making her phone vibrate before she looks at it, and, not for the first time, she glances over her shoulder to check that Sam is still sleeping before she looks down at the dimly-lit screen. Santana's name shines back at her, along with a blue text message bubble.

_Come downstairs._

Sighing quietly, Brittany slips out of her bed and pulls on sweatpants, sparing one more look at Sam's quietly snoring form before silently exiting her room. She pads down the stairs, shaking her head, because what did she expect? Of course Santana would turn up after-

Brittany opens the front door. _Santana-_ she sighs, running a hand through her tousled blonde hair, as the sight of Santana's hunched form fills her vision.

_I'm sorry,_ Santana says, and Brittany can hear the tininess of her voice, can hear her swallowing back tears. _I had to see you._

_You saw me yesterday_, Brittany murmurs, her blue eyes dark and intense and burning into Santana's. She ignores the hurt that flashes over Santana's face (because honestly, when has seeing Santana the day before ever deterred Brittany from wanting to see her the next day?) in favor of letting anger consume her instead. She feels frustrated, just a little- because it's so much harder to pretend Santana doesn't exist when she's right there in front of her looking breathtakingly beautiful and smelling even better, and why does Santana have to keep making it so hard for her? Brittany's trying to survive, she's trying to- not _move on,_ but at least find happiness knowing Santana is happy in New York, but the sight of Santana's upset face just destroyed all of those thoughts of Santana's happiness, and now Brittany just feels frustrated, just feels empty.

Santana nods in response, defeated, her eyes shiny as she blinks and swallows. Her voice is low and shaky and Brittany wonders what happened to make Santana so vulnerable and forlorn. _Can I- can I come in?_

Brittany shakes her head, her eyes darting over her shoulder into the house, as if making sure the occupants are still asleep, and then she looks past Santana to the driveway, noticing the absence of Santana's car. Santana must've seen Sam's truck and parked down the street. Brittany swallows, knowing that Santana _knows_ who's at Brittany's house but asked to enter anyway, as if forcing Brittany to confirm-

_Sam's here,_ Brittany reminds, almost scolding, a little angry that Santana's pretending she _doesn't_ know. Sam's here because seeing Santana at the not-wedding, feeling so much distance between them, was more than Brittany could bear. She could see how _black_ Santana was, how bitter she had been, and it only hurt Brittany more, knowing there was nothing Brittany could do for Santana. She felt trapped, and so she did the only thing she could do- Brittany danced, and, yeah, it was with Sam, but Brittany couldn't dance with Santana, and she liked Sam well enough… but seeing Santana at the not-wedding and not being able to kiss her or touch her or hold her and tell her that everything would be okay- to watch as the memories of last year's Valentine's Day together flashed over Santana's bitter face- left Brittany in a sad place, and she needed to forget, she needed to lose herself. She needed Santana, but- she could only have Sam.

And Sam's currently sleeping upstairs, and Brittany's still hurting inside, especially with the sight of Santana reopening her raw wounds, and they can't do this right now, Brittany can't do this right now-

Santana surges forward and kisses her- hard- and Brittany doesn't resist. She melts, she cups Santana's face and kisses back, but then Santana's pulling away, nervous, too full of energy, and resting her forehead on hers, breathing shakily.

_Then come with me,_ Santana breathes, letting her thumb stroke Brittany's cheek.

_San-_

_Please, Britt_, Santana whispers, voice so full of emotion and longing that it makes Brittany's heart ache. _Please._

Brittany swallows and nods. _Let me get my coat.  
_

* * *

They walk down the street, and Brittany feels the emptiness in her hand where Santana's should be. As if reading her mind, Santana winds their fingers together, ignoring the slight bite of the morning cold on their hands as they walk. Brittany thinks about the softness, about how tiny Santana's hands are, and about how their fingers fit together so much nicer than hers do with Sam's bigger, rougher, clumsier ones.

It's early and the morning mist hasn't fully dissipated yet, and for a moment Brittany feels like her and Santana are floating alone together privately, where no one can see them or take away their happiness together- because even just holding Santana's hand has made her happy, has eased the ache in Brittany's heart from the pain of their separation the previous night. Her thoughts drift reluctantly to last night, and to the not-wedding, and how awkward it had been to see Santana when she couldn't just press a kiss to her jaw or tangle their hands together; Brittany had been trying so hard to live a Santana-free existence because she couldn't bear being reminded of Santana in everything, it was just too hard- but when Santana's around it's impossible to think she could ever _not_ think of Santana, impossible to think of anything but Santana, but- they can't do this, Brittany can't do this-

Santana squeezes her hand, and Brittany feels calm.

Brittany knows where they are going, wrapped up in the mist- they used to take this walk often in previous years, sometimes late at night (but early was always their favorite) and as they near the park, Brittany notices Santana chewing her lip nervously.

They reach the edge of the woods lining the park and Santana backs Brittany up against _their_ tree- their initials are carved in it from last summer, and Brittany presses her hand fondly to the carving as Santana presses forward to kiss her. Brittany fingers the worn grooves in the smooth bark and wraps her free hand around Santana's neck, pulling her closer, and remembers a time when they lived a carefree life and how Santana had flourished in her role as Brittany's girlfriend, how she had proudly declared the title to anyone who had asked, how she had carved their initials in the tree as proof that her love for Brittany was eternal- proof that Santana wasn't scared anymore- and Brittany feels sad and nostalgic and wishes that dreams didn't come at the cost of progress made over time.

They kiss and kiss and Brittany feels her control slipping with each heated stroke of Santana's tongue against hers, with each burning path Santana's hands make over her body. She moans in Santana's mouth and grips her tighter, reaching up to fist her shirt, her other hand never leaving the initials she feels linked to under her fingertips.

Without warning, Santana drops to her knees in the cold, dead brush and tugs Brittany's sweatpants down to her knees. Brittany shivers hard as the cold air hits her slick, heated flesh, but then Santana's warming her up in the best way, with her hot mouth and hotter tongue, and Brittany grips the tree trunk for dear life as Santana claims her. She feels teeth on her inner thigh, lips sucking, and knows she will have a bruise later- a reminder of this morning tryst- and her hips buck and her legs shake and tense and all the while Santana's sucking, sucking, licking strongly, swirling her tongue and then sucking again.

Brittany's hand falls to Santana's hair, the other one refusing to let go of the tree. In a way it's like Brittany feels connected to their past selves, as if by touching their initials, the reminder of their past selves, they are somehow the people they _used_ to be together, and not the sad, broken ones they are now. Her thoughts race, her heart races, her pulse races, and she shakes and shakes, and her hips buck, and her hand tightens in Santana's hair.

_Oh, God, I'm gonna come- _

Santana's eyes snap up at Brittany's heated admission, her gaze intense and penetrating, and as their eyes lock, Brittany's mouth falls open with a whimpered moan of release and she can feel the vibrations of the answering moan from Santana against her throbbing center, and then she's trembling and riding the wave of her orgasm, riding Santana's hot, hot tongue, and-

_Santana- fuck, I'm-_

And then Brittany's coming again, barely off the crest of her first orgasm, and Santana's heated mouth just won't-

_Stop, San,_ Brittany pants, _begs_, breathless, her hands shaking where they rest buried in Santana's hair_. I won't be able to _stand_-_

_I've got you,_ Santana purrs against her slick flesh, wrapping strong arms around and under Brittany's thighs, never ceasing, relentless in her determination to reduce Brittany to a quivering puddle, to prove to Brittany- _what_? What is Santana trying to prove? Brittany can only spare the barest of thoughts to it, because her mind has gone blank with pleasure, and Santana's _sucking_ again, and-

_Ugh! San-tan-a-_

Brittany doesn't even know how long she orgasms for- each one just blends in to the next until finally Santana pulls away, gasping, her chin glistening as the first rays of the morning sun peek through the trees, and she looks so beautiful that Brittany allows herself to sink down to her knees, hastily pulling up her sweatpants before kissing Santana fiercely- tasting herself on Santana's lips- and then she's pushing Santana back into the slightly damp, cold earth and they're kissing and kissing and-

_I love you,_ Santana gasps, sounding nearly desperate, as if willing Brittany to understand and accept those three words, even though Brittany already has- they're the only three words she hears.

_I love you, too,_ Brittany breathes in return, because she needs Santana to understand and accept hers just as much.

_I'm going back to New York today_, Santana says softly, lips resting against Brittany's jaw, arms winding around Brittany's lower back, holding her close.

_Yeah?_ Brittany hums, tucks her head under Santana's chin and rests against her neck, breathing Santana's scent in, mixed with early morning, and Brittany smiles and thinks she likes this Santana smell the best.

Santana takes a deep breath, blurts it out: _I slept with Quinn last night._

Brittany freezes, feels her stomach tense, because Brittany's not stupid- she saw the way Quinn was touching Santana, the way Quinn was _looking_ at Santana, but she'd tried not to think about it. _Yeah?_ She says again, only tinier, quieter, trying to cut off her own thoughts, and wonders why it takes them having sex before they can _talk_ to each other-

_Yeah,_ Santana whispers, her voice cracking. Brittany wonders if Santana's ashamed, if Santana regrets it-

_Okay,_ Brittany accepts, circling her fingers nervously on Santana's warm stomach, but she senses Santana's not done. She recognizes the tone of guilt in Santana's voice, and she wants to make Santana feel better, so she closes up her heart to the pain- Santana needs a _best friend_ right now- and listens.

Once Santana realizes Brittany's open, the words come out in a rush. _I just- I missed you so much last night, and seeing you there with _him_-_

Brittany kisses her neck reassuringly, though despite trying to stop it, her heart hurts a little. _I know. It's okay. It's okay. _And it _is_ okay, in Brittany's mind. At least it was Quinn. She trusts Quinn with Santana, trusts Quinn not to hurt Santana, but most of all, she trusts Quinn not to come between their _happily ever after_- so Brittany can handle a few pages of their story dedicated to Quinn.

_I wished she was you the whole time_, Santana confesses. _I wanted her to be you._

Brittany swallows hard. _It's okay_, she repeats, her voice the slightest bit hollow imagining Santana and _Quinn_, her _friend_- (is this how Santana felt about Sam?) (No, because Brittany isn't sad that Santana was with Quinn- Brittany is sad that even when with Quinn, Santana thought of Brittany instead, and even though Brittany does the same, even though Brittany thinks of Santana when she's with Sam, she hasn't told Santana that with _words_, and Brittany ponders why they do this to each other when they both just want the same things.) _You're gonna need someone in New York, San. Quinn's closer than me-_

_No, Brittany_, Santana says firmly. She tugs Brittany's face up until their eyes meet. _No_, she says again, softer, and Brittany sees _the look_ in her eyes, the _I just want you_ look, the _no one compares to you so why waste time on someone else when we are forever? _look, the _I said NEVER _look, and Brittany feels her heart thump loudly, almost painfully, in her chest.

Santana only wants her, Brittany knows. Brittany only wants Santana, has only ever wanted Santana. Brittany feels like she's been waiting for Santana forever, it seems. She waits, and she wonders- when will time be on their side?- and she hopes for the future. And she waits.

And she waits.

* * *

**I just caaaalled to say Iiii waaaant yooou- to come back hooome! **

**LOL this damn song. **

**Okay, well, not sure when inspiration will strike again. I guess it depends on canon, but I might do another long-distance sexy story again, because I'm hard and I do what I want. ;)**

**Review if you feel like it, but if not, that's okay, I'll see you next time! **

**Keep calm and ship Brittana! **


	8. Nothing Compares to You

**Thanks to everyone who read or reviewed or whatever'd the last chapter. Ya'll are good people. **

**Not much to say except the usual: Fuck you, Glee, Brittana is endgame, etc. etc.**

**Happy angst-ing! (says the oxymoron 8D~)**

* * *

_It's been so lonely without you here  
Like a bird without a song  
Nothing can stop these lonely tears from falling  
Tell me baby where did I go wrong  
I could put my arms around every boy I see  
But they'd only remind me of you  
_/

Brittany is black.

Santana is gone, _really _gone, and Brittany feels more lost than usual. Santana's been gone before, but not _really _gone. Because there was always laundry, or _Grease_, or Thanksgiving, or holidays, or Sadie Hawkins dances, or duets for Brittany's honor, or weddings before. There was always Santana before. And now there's nothing, nothing but _really _gone.

And Brittany sees It (_feels_ it) in everything, sees it (_feels_ it) everywhere. She's used to missing Santana, but not like this. Even when she and Santana were unofficial, they still saw each other, still loved each other, still touched and kissed and fucked each other. But now Santana is in New York, and Brittany doesn't see her, doesn't touch or kiss or fuck her. Only loves her. Only misses her with an intensity she has never experienced before. It shadows all her minutes in all her days, and Brittany is black, black, black.

Santana is _really_ gone.

Brittany's not the only one _missing_- she sees her own pain, her own heart loneliness reflected in the everyday faces of Blaine, reflected in the everyday faces of Finn. The three of them recognize each other's heart loneliness, and Brittany feels like they are part of some secret club- something like the Lonely Hearts Club, but not the Lonely Hearts Club because it's not even a real club, and it's not secret.

Brittany recognizes that Blaine has done exactly what Brittany herself has done- used _Sam_ to distract from missing someone else, and Brittany doesn't mind- she will share Sam gladly. Sam is nice. Sam is beautiful. Sam is tender, caring, and comforting.

Sam is a great distraction.

Brittany recognizes that Finn has done exactly what Brittany herself has done- gone crazy, because what other emotion but _crazy_ could Finn have possibly been feeling in order to kiss Miss Pillsbury? Brittany understands.

But Brittany also knows, just as Finn and Blaine surely know, that kisses and distractions don't ease the heart loneliness they're all feeling. That at the end of the day, Brittany still aches in a way that all of the Sams in the world can't ease. And that ache travels into the beginning of the next day. And the end of the next day. And the beginning of the day after that, and after that, and every day after, until it's a constant feeling. It shadows all her minutes in all her days, and Brittany is black, black, black.

Santana is _really_ gone.

And Brittany hopes she's happy in New York, happy with Rachel and Kurt, happy following her dreams, happy- because Brittany is not quite happy, but she's as happy as she can be without Santana. It's not just Santana being really gone that makes Brittany lonely- she misses all her friends, really. She still has Tina and Arty and Sugar (when she's not too busy) to talk to, and she's tried to befriend Marley (because Santana befriended Marley) but she avoids Blaine and Finn, because she sees too much of her heart loneliness in them. She misses her friends, because they are gone, but she misses her best friend, because she is _really_ gone. Brittany's gotten used to being a Cheerio without Santana, to being in Glee Club without Santana- but she _misses_, and it shadows all her minutes in all her days, and Brittany is black, black, black.

When Brittany dances, she misses Santana's silliness, misses her own silliness that being around Santana drew out of her. When Brittany sings, she misses the sound of Santana's raspy, smoky voice mingling with hers, caressing hers like the way their bodies mingle and caress. Brittany has no one to smile at and reach for and tug closer while she's dancing. She has no one to sing to. She just feels empty inside, like that poem she read in English class about the tree that used to have birds in it during the summer, but now it's winter and the birds are gone and the tree is empty. Brittany remembers, but she feels so far away from the memories, and it scares her that maybe she's starting to forget.

But then Brittany sees Blaine talking to Sam, sees Finn talking to Miss Pillsbury, and she remembers the reason for her heart loneliness.

Santana is _really_ gone.

* * *

_Date nights_ are the worst for Brittany, because Brittany doesn't want to spend Friday nights with Sam. Something about it seems _wrong_, seems _cheap_, seems _watered-down,_ and Brittany's scared of replacing her _date nights_ with something else, something _like_ date nights but with less meaning and more _wrong_, more _cheap_, more _watered-down._

Brittany doesn't spend every Friday night moping at home. Sometimes she goes out, alone, or with her friends (because she and Santana used to do that sometimes) but sometimes she does stay home and mope, like she is now.

It's raining outside, and the weather affects Brittany's mood. She hasn't heard from Santana since the wedding, even though they said they were best friends, and best friends still call each other, don't they?

(They can never be _just_ best friends.)

Brittany stares at her phone, debating. She doesn't want to bother Santana, and maybe Santana is still aching as much as Brittany is, or maybe Santana's moved on and met someone else (but then she would've said so on Facebook, right?) or maybe Santana found a job and she's just been busy, or maybe Santana doesn't want to be best friends, doesn't want to be _just_ best friends.

(They can never be _just_ best friends.)

Brittany chews her lip, debates, debates, hits the _Call_ button and waits.

And waits.

_Hi, it's Santana, I'm obviously not available, so-_

Brittany sighs, hangs on the sound of Santana's voicemail recording (she hasn't heard Santana's voice since the wedding, and she _misses_ it; it shadows all her minutes in all her days) and panics. Should she leave a message, or-

She hits the _End Call_ button and swallows, feeling her tears surfacing, feeling her throat tightening, feeling her chest ache. This isn't how it's supposed to be.

Brittany takes a deep breath and flops back on her bed, closing her eyes and wishing only for Santana. Brittany closes her eyes and remembers a time when she wasn't a tree in winter, but a summertime tree, full of birds, full of Santana, and she wasn't songless or dance partnerless. She lets a small smile drift to her lips as she remembers the feeling of Santana against her, the feeling of Santana's warm breaths against her neck as she buried her face there.

Brittany traces her fingertips up her own arm, squeezing her eyes shut and thinking Santana, Santana, Santana. She remembers the way Santana would press her full, soft lips to Brittany's neck, how she would whisper in Brittany's ear,

_I love you so much_

and Brittany would shiver, and turn to Santana and kiss her, and whisper back,

_I love you, too_

and then they would kiss some more, and Santana's hand would trace teasing circles on Brittany's firm stomach (Brittany gasps- shivers- as she teases her own stomach) and then Brittany would pull Santana on top of her, and their hips would fit together, and Santana's thigh would press against her (Brittany pushes her palm against her center, trying to find the right pressure, the Santana pressure, and she cants her hips up, moaning) and Santana would thrust and Brittany would bite Santana's bottom lip, tug Santana's bottom lip, and they would kiss and kiss and kiss.

Brittany would feel her center throbbing against Santana (against her hand) and she'd beg Santana _please_ and Santana would respond by pushing two fingers deep inside her (Brittany gasps _Santana_ and arches off the bed) and kissing her jaw (Brittany drops her head to the side, giving herself freely to Santana's lips) and breathing over her skin.

Then, when Brittany got close (Brittany's _so_ close) Santana would tell her,

_I love you so much_

again, (_I love you, Santana_) and Brittany would fall apart beneath her, shuddering.

Brittany opens her eyes. She's alone. She's winter again. She chokes back a sob and curls up on her bed, burying her face in her pillow, wishing she could still smell summertime on it.

Santana's _really_ gone.

* * *

**AND NOW WITH 25% LESS ANGST!**

* * *

It shadows all her minutes in all her days, and Brittany's so black that she doesn't notice the slight vibration of her phone on the bed beside her, doesn't see Santana's achingly beautiful face, next to her own, flashing on the screen, and when Brittany checks her phone in the morning, it says she has one missed call.

No voicemail.

(Brittany wonders if Santana just wanted to hear _her_ voice, too.)

* * *

**Hahaha so it's like CHOOSE YOUR OWN ANGST-VENTURE! You can end it at the cry, or you can decide if Santana called her back….**

**Personally, I hate angst. (SO DAFUQ ARE YOU WRITING IT, STUPID CLOUD?!)**

…

**Anyways.**

**Thanks for reading! Review if you feel like it. Also, below is the poem I mentioned, if you're interested in reading it. It's not exactly Brittana, but for whatever reason, the lyric from the Sinead song I used on this chapter reminded me of it so I just went with it.**

**OKAY WELL GOOD BYE NOW.**

**See you next week, maybe! :D**

* * *

"_What Lips My Lips Have Kissed"_

_What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,_

_I have forgotten, and what arms have lain_

_Under my head till morning; but the rain_

_Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh_

_Upon the glass and listen for reply,_

_And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain_

_For unremembered lads that not again_

_Will turn to me at midnight with a cry._

_Thus in winter stands the lonely tree,_

_Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,_

_Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:_

_I cannot say what lives have come and gone,_

_I only know that summer sang in me_

_A little while, that in me sings no more._

_-Edna St. Vincent Millay_


	9. Look After You

**Hello. :)**

**Thanks for everyone who followed, read, reviewed, cried over, hated, or died from the last chapter. You all are great.**

**Brittana is endgame, just remember. I know these Bram waters suck for our ship, but the good news is we survived Bartie, which lasted longer and had far more moments and scenes than Bram has had so far. We WILL have Brittana again! And it will be glorious! Stay calm and ship on, dear readers.**

**In the meantime, here's some angst for you to (not really) cry over. Sorry in advance for there not being any smut. I know, I know- I'm upset, too. **

* * *

_My heart has started to separate  
__When I'm losing my control, the city spins around  
__You're the only one who knows; you slow it down_

Brittany knows what her guilty pleasure is before she's asked;

_Santana_.

but she's not sure if that counts, because she doesn't feel guilty about Santana at all. In fact, maybe the guilty pleasure should be Sam, instead, because even though she's cheating on Sam (being in love with someone else is technically cheating, right? But even if it wasn't, she's physically cheated more times than she can count and she'd do it again in a heartbeat anyway) with Santana, she still feels like Sam, her _boyfriend_, is the one intruding on her relationship with Santana. She feels a little guilty for being with Sam when she _knows_ with every fiber of her being that she belongs with- belongs _to_- Santana.

And okay, maybe Brittany likes Sam a little and even cares for him a little- but Santana is everything, and Brittany does feel a little bit guilty for not feeling guilty about that, and why does this whole situation have to be so confusing? Why can't things ever be easy for them? Brittany only wants Santana.

So when she's asked _what's your guilty pleasure?_ she thinks,

_Santana_.

but she answers, _Spice Girls_. It's easy. (And maybe it still doesn't count, because she doesn't exactly feel guilty about liking the Spice Girls- after all, they're the Spice Girls. Who doesn't like them? It's not like she has a secret fetish for making macaroni art or something, that would just be weird.)

Brittany swallows the lump in her throat that forms at the memory of how many times she and Santana had jammed to the Spice Girls in her room while doing homework, or while fixing each other's hair after having an intense make-out session, or in the car driving anywhere. She misses Santana so, so much- it shadows all her minutes in all her days, but she takes a deep breath and tries to be enthused about performing a song with a team of girls she had imagined very differently (with maybe a bit more Quinn and Mercedes and Rachel, and a _lot _more Santana, Santana, Santana.)

When Sam admits his guilty pleasure, she tries to be happy for him. She's the first (or maybe the second) to congratulate him, because she is genuinely proud of him (though Taylor Swift makes her heart pound, makes her throat-lump return, and she bites her lip and tries not to flash back to the last time she'd been able to listen to Taylor Swift without crying.)

Her tears surface briefly,

_I will always love you the most._

but she stuffs them down, smiles, hugs Sam, and before she realizes it, she calls him _baby_ and then she's trying to hold back an expression of horror. She calls him the pet name just to test it out- just to _see_- but it feels wrong the second it's out of her mouth, it tastes sour on her tongue, and a wave of nausea hits her so suddenly that she has to turn away to gather control over her emotions.

Words echo,

_I will always love you the most._

but Brittany takes a deep breath and forces another wide smile. Brittany had been called _baby_ by many different people, had called many different people _baby_, but it only felt natural, only felt right when it was used by Santana, when it was used for Santana.

She misses Santana so, so much.

* * *

Brittany's phone vibrates later that Friday night while she's doing homework and she rolls her eyes- it's probably Sam telling her something stupid, as usual. His jokes mostly make her smile, but in the way that doesn't reach her eyes, in that _forced_ way, that fake way when she's trying too hard to be happy- _look how happy she is_- but she's still overwhelmed with emotions (Spice Girls, Taylor Swift, _baby_- Santana, Santana, Santana) to think anything about Sam is funny. She's long since given up hope that it could be the one person she wants to hear from more than anything blowing up her phone (her heart still races- involuntarily really- for half a second, despite Brittany's head protesting, _fool, forget her_) but then she checks it and everything in her freezes.

_Are you free tonight, B?_

Brittany tries to swallow, tries to make her mind work, tries to think, but all her eyes can do is trace over the name of the sender (_Santana_!) and re-read the brief text message (_Santana_!) and re-read the brief text message (_Santana_!) and re-read the brief text message (_Santana_) and become consumed with emotion (_Santana_!).

With shaking fingers, Brittany types out a response, _Yes._

(Always.)

And waits.

Santana's reply comes a moment later, _Skype?_ and Brittany drops her notebook and scrambles off her chair to snatch up her laptop. She turns it on and nervously waits for it to load up. She has a brief moment of panic, rushes to her mirror, checks her reflection- and then takes a deep, calming breath. She shouldn't be this nervous, it's just Santana (it's _Santana_) but she hasn't seen Santana since the not-wedding, hasn't spoken to her since she left. She's read her random Facebook and Twitter updates (checks them daily), she (sort of) knows what's going on in Santana's life (and tries to ignore the sharp spike of pain from having to find out from Twitter and Facebook and not Santana's velvet voice) and almost called and texted more times than she could count, but she was unsure of the rules, unsure if Santana _wanted_ to hear from her (Brittany will always look after Santana) so she kept quiet.

However, now Santana is the one contacting her, and Brittany's stomach twists with anxiety as she stalks back to her chair and settles her laptop on her thighs, chewing her lip nervously as she signs into Skype.

Santana is online.

Brittany wonders fleetingly if she should initiate the chat, wonders if that's what best friends do (they can never be _just_ best friends) wonders what the rules are, wonders-

And then Santana's beautiful, beautiful face appears, and Brittany's letting out a slow breath to steady her breathing- which has suddenly become very difficult- and her heart is pounding, threatening to shatter her ribcage, and Santana's lips- _oh_, her _lips_- are moving and Brittany scrunches her eyebrows in confusion.

A chat window appears; _is your volume on?_ and Brittany feels her cheeks heating up as she quickly moves to unmute her computer. (Lord Tubbington must've used it for something shady, there was no other reasonable explanation.)

Santana just smiles at her knowingly, beautifully, and Brittany's heart aches- breaks- at the sight. Brittany misses Santana so, so much. It shadows all her minutes in all her days, but now, with Santana grinning before her, Brittany feels a darkness lifted from her; her heart feels lighter than it has in weeks, and she can't help but grin like a fool in return.

They stare at each other in silence, but they never needed words to communicate- their eyes say everything they can't form into words. Santana's dark, tender eyes trace Brittany's face as if they are recalling how to really see for the first time, and Brittany's sure she just looks like an idiot, the way she soaks in Santana's brilliant smile and smooth perfection even through the graininess of her laptop.

Brittany swallows, feeling emotional, _feeling_-

_Hey, Britt_, Santana says warmly, and her eyes say _I miss you _and Brittany's heart beats, beats, beats.

_Hey, San,_ she murmurs, feeling suddenly shy under Santana's intense, searching gaze. Brittany hopes her eyes say _I miss you, too_. She finally drags her eyes from Santana's- well, _everything_- to scan Santana's surroundings. It's the first time she's seen the loft where Santana's staying, and she can't help but feel her heart fill with a million conflicting emotions, but chiefly love, love love.

Her eyes fall on a pillow- at least, she _thinks_ it's a pillow, but-

_What's that?_ Brittany blurts before she can think better of it, and Santana follows her puzzled gaze to the weird lump at her side, and then Santana's eyes widen in panic, and she yelps _Nothing!_ too quickly, shoving the thing under a blanket.

Brittany waits for an explanation in confused silence, and Santana rolls her eyes and her voice takes on that tone when she's trying to sound annoyed instead of embarrassed when she says _Kurt got me and Rachel girlfriend and boyfriend pillows._

Brittany smiles coyly to herself as Santana continues to rant about how lame they are (Brittany didn't fail to notice the _girlfriend_ pillow wearing a very familiar favorite t-shirt of _Brittany's_, and her heart speeds up at the thought of Santana not only keeping the garment with her, but dressing a pillow with it- reassuring her that maybe Santana really does miss her and wish she was there in New York with her, reassuring her that even in _girlfriend_ pillow form, Brittany will always look after Santana) and Brittany listens attentively, swooning at the sound of Santana's voice. She misses it so, so much.

When Santana reaches the end of her rant, Brittany swallows, and their eyes meet again as silence falls over them.

_I miss you_, Santana says, out loud this time, and Brittany's throat feels tight.

_I miss you, too_, Brittany says. (So, so much.) She hesitates, unsure of how much to say, unsure of what best friends do (they can never be _just_ best friends), unsure of the rules. She finally settles on, _How are you?_

Santana's eyes seem to melt, like chocolate fondue, and her lips curve into a loving smile, and Brittany aches to kiss them, aches to feel how soft they are pressed to her own, and she hopes she's not revealing too much, but- who is she kidding?- she's an open book to Santana.

They make small talk for a few minutes, and then Santana gets to the reason why she's calling-

_My job is letting me have a solo performance,_ Santana says with a grin, and Brittany's jaw drops in astounded pride, and she stutters over her congratulations because she's just so happy and proud of Santana she could cry, because Brittany always believed in Santana and now Santana's doing it, she's living her dream (sort of) in the Big Apple- but Santana's not done speaking.

_I want you to help me choreograph something._

Brittany quickly bites her lip to stifle the now overwhelming urge to cry. She's spent the last month (or has it been longer?) since the not-wedding _missing_, and hoping for Santana's happiness and well-being and success, and now that Santana has all of those things, the fact that she wants to share them _with Brittany_, that she wants Brittany to be a part of something so important for her is just too much. Brittany almost can't believe it. She shakes her head slowly.

_No?_ Santana asks, obviously disappointed_. I mean, I get that it's short notice, but-_

_No, San_, Brittany says with an elated giggle, because- she's just _so happy_ for the first time in a month (or has it been longer?) _Of course I'll help you. Did you pick a song yet?_

Santana nods, tells her the song, and Brittany swallows the slight twinges of dread and jealousy that creep into her stomach. It's a romantic song, an _intimate_ song, and Brittany's mind races at a thousand miles an hour, wondering, wondering, wondering who the song is for, if the song is for-

(Is it Quinn? Is it someone new?)

Again, she shoves the feeling aside, because that's what best friends do (they can never be _just_ best friends) and forces a smile, praising Santana's song choice.

Santana smiles, her expression unreadable, and then details what she has in mind.

* * *

They work on the choreography for over an hour. It's only one song, and Santana had already had a lot of it blocked out, she'd just needed Brittany to help with some rough spots and to give an overall opinion on the flow and offer up suggestions for improvement. Though the doubt is still in the back of her mind, Brittany loves the time spent with Santana, has found joy in getting up to demonstrate some suggestions, found her inspiration for dancing again. They laugh, they tease, they smile at each other, and for the moment, it feels like it used to when Santana first went away to college- the longing, the _missing_, but the love, the love, the love.

For the moment, Brittany feels like _them_ again.

Santana finishes laughing at something silly Brittany's said, and Brittany holds on to the way Santana's eyes twinkle at her, holds on to the sound of Santana's honey-velvet laughter, not wanting this moment to end, not wanting Santana to be _really_ gone again. Brittany's heart aches- breaks- at the thought.

_Okay_, Santana says breathlessly, _I'm going to run the whole thing._

_Do it_, Brittany says excitedly, settling back on the carpet and swiping her bangs out of her face from where they'd come loose from her high pony during a dance demonstration.

Santana takes a deep breath, moves to queue up the song, stands in the center of the room. Her eyes are intense and focused right on Brittany's, and Brittany feels bare and exposed under the penetrating gaze- Santana hadn't made eye contact during the rehearsal.

The music starts and Santana moves gracefully, sensually, and Brittany feels love, love, love emanating from every movement, emanating from Santana, and combined with the eye contact and the intimate lyrics it's too much, it's all too much, and Brittany feels tears surfacing, feels her throat closing-

But then as the song leads into the second verse, Santana's movement changes into something a lot more sultry, a lot more seductive with the words of the song, and Brittany's mouth is dry for an entirely different reason as she watches Santana's hips roll upwards from her position on the floor. Heat rushes to her face, floods between her legs, and she's throbbing at the sight of Santana shifting into suggestive positions on the carpet, showing off her firm ass (Brittany remembers how it feels, squeezed in her hands while Santana's riding her) her strong, toned thighs (Brittany remembers how they feel wrapped around her) her perfect, perky breasts (Brittany remembers how they taste) and then Santana jerks her head, tossing her hair sexily, and Brittany whimpers.

Santana hasn't stopped looking at her.

Brittany bites her lip hard, hoping the pain will curb her arousal- but it's pounding into every pore of her body, it's taken over her mind, and she _wants_, she _aches_ with need. She squeezes her hands into fists, fighting the urge to slide her hand down between her legs. She can feel wetness pooling there and when Santana runs a hand down her body seductively, Brittany gasps and shivers.

Santana hasn't stopped looking at her.

Brittany throbs, throbs, throbs as Santana dances into the final verse, her moves not quite so carnal, but Brittany's drawn so taut and her mind is so hazy with arousal that Santana yawning would seem sexy, would set her off.

Santana finishes the dance flawlessly, ending with her eyes boring into Brittany's, and Brittany has that naked feeling again. When the song ends, Santana doesn't break eye contact. She murmurs _Thank you, Brittany_ in a voice husky with emotion and something else, and her chocolate fondue eyes say _I love you, Brittany_, and Brittany returns both sentiments respectively.

_That was-_ Brittany chokes on her words (Is it Quinn? Is it someone new?) _that was really beautiful, San._ She pauses, takes a deep breath, gathers her courage- that's what best friends do, right? (They can never be _just_ best friends)- and asks, _When is the performance?_

_Tomorrow night,_ Santana says quickly.

_You're going to be great, San._

_ I know, B- thanks again for making time to help me._

Brittany smiles shyly._ You're welcome._

(Always.)

* * *

Brittany spends the next day typing out a million different text messages to Santana, deleting all of them before they're sent. In the end, she doesn't want to seem too desperate, or like she has nothing better to do (she's desperate, and nothing is better than supporting Santana) and so she waits until the time when Santana said she'd be at work, but before the performance, and texts Kurt.

_hi i forgot to tell san good luck, tell her 4 me?_

After a few moments, Kurt texts back. _Tell her good luck for what? _

Brittany stares at the text for a minute, confused. Maybe Kurt didn't know?It seemed likely, Santana was so stubborn about things and she really didn't understand how friendships worked sometimes-_ She has a performance at her job tonight._

Her phone lights up again moments later._ No. Her performance was Thursday. She's sitting right next to me watching _Facts of Life_._

Brittany looks up from her phone, perplexed. She debates- should she text Santana? Did Santana get the day wrong and miss her own performance? Brittany's done that before- she's not good with calendars, after all- but Santana's usually so smart about that kind of-

Brittany's phone vibrates again, startling her out of her thoughts, and she looks at her incoming text. Her heart beats, beats, beats- it's from Santana_._

_I lied. The performance was for you._

* * *

**Awwww. :') I don't know why I ended that shit so happily. ****I've been too angsty lately, so, you know. Thought I'd drop a tiny bit o' fluff in the mix. Hope it wasn't too disappointing to all you Angsters out there. **

**Next chapter is a teensy bit fluffy, too… spoiler alert, Brittany gets to see Santana in person again, AND THE SMUT RETURNS! lolololol. **

**Okay, well, review if you aren't dead!**

**But if you are, well, then I guess I can't expect much out of you. ._.**

**See you next week! BRITTANA FOREVER! :D**


	10. Alive

**Not sure why I didn't post this chapter sooner, considering it's been done for, literally, weeks... Eh well. Here it is. :)**

**Next chapter should be up later this weekend, in keeping with the theme of Canon-corresponding updates, lol.**

**Almost no angst this chapter, so happy reading! (for once! ;)**

* * *

_And I just wanna sink into your crazy laughter  
Come on- make me feel until the pain don't matter  
Every second here makes my heart beat faster_

Brittany knows whose doorstep she's standing on before she rings the buzzer, and, not for the first time, she wonders how she even managed to end up in New York for her Spring Break- the train ride passed by so quickly, in such a blur, that Brittany hardly remembers anything about it except the overwhelming feeling of anxiety settling into the pit of her stomach, the overwhelming feeling of anticipation sinking into her nerves, the overwhelming feeling of excitement and nervousness and joy and fear taking over her senses.

And then she was in New York.

On Santana's (And Rachel's, and Kurt's) doorstep.

Oddly enough, Brittany's parents had been the ones to notice how mopey Brittany had been lately (it's been over a month since Brittany's _seen_ Santana) and (Brittany's never gone that long without _seeing_ Santana before) they came to her the Tuesday before Spring Break wearing concerned expressions.

_Honey_, they'd said, _What are your plans for your break?_

_I haven't thought about it_, Brittany had lied with a noncommittal shrug, but her parents had seen right through her. (Brittany only thinks about Santana, Santana, Santana.)

_You don't have to hide from us_, Brittany's mom had said gently.

_We know you miss her_, Brittany's dad had added with a knowing look.

Brittany wondered if he meant _we miss her, too_, but then her mom was handing her an envelope with a reassuring smile and _holy shit_, her parents had bought her a _train ticket_ and told her to _have fun_ and Brittany wonders if they don't secretly _ship_ her and Santana and aren't somehow rooting and conspiring for them to reconcile; if her parents _did,_ it would be cute and perfect and yeah, _of course_ they ship her with Santana (just like Brittany does, just like Lord Tubbington does) and now she's standing on Santana's (and Rachel's, and Kurt's) doorstep and swallowing nervously and the buzzer rings once before Santana opens it, looking impossibly beautiful- looking about as nervous as Brittany feels.

_Hi_, Santana says almost shyly, biting her lip and holding back a huge grin. Brittany's heart thumps harder at the sight of Santana's plump lower lip pulled between her teeth, and the way her brown eyes sparkle-

_Hi_, Brittany murmurs back, equally as shy and uncertain of the rules. She allows her eyes to trace Santana's face and then notices that Santana's eyes are moving. They regard each other slowly, their lingering gazes traveling up and down each other's bodies like a heat trail, and then Brittany's eyes finally find Santana's again and the eye contact makes Brittany throb with want, and then they're both staring at each other's lips and Brittany is suddenly imagining pressing Santana to the door and sinking two fingers into her tight, wet-

_Brittany!_ Rachel exclaims with far too much enthusiasm from inside the apartment, and she rushes forward to greet her, and the moment is broken. Santana doesn't lift her gaze from Brittany's lips, though, and Brittany feels another throb pulse through her and she struggles to greet Rachel and then Kurt as she's ushered inside to the kitchen for refreshments. Somehow a drink is placed in her hand but her brain still hasn't caught up from _pressing Santana to the door_.

They ask things like _how was your trip_ and _how long are you staying,_ but all Brittany hears are the silent things Santana's hot chocolate eyes are telling her, like _I missed you so much_ and _I want to taste your lips_ and _I wish Rachel and Kurt weren't here so I could bend you over this table and fuck you-_

Brittany bites her lip. Her gaze darts down to the kitchen table.

_Brittany?_

Oh, right. Rachel. Kurt.

Brittany stumbles her way through her responses, not missing the smirk Santana tries to hide behind a glass of water pressed to her lips, and then Rachel's going on about celebrating Brittany's visit to the city later at their favorite club down the street but all Brittany hears are Santana's silent _kiss me, kiss me, kiss me_s and it suddenly sinks in to Brittany that this is going to be an agonizing visit.

* * *

It's not until later when they're all at the club (she'd used her fake ID right alongside Santana like old times) that Brittany realizes _how_ agonizing this trip will really be. Santana's been not-so-subtly fucking Brittany with her eyes all night: staring at Brittany's lips, staring at the exposed tops of Brittany's breasts and bare collarbones, staring at her legs- Brittany's not sure she can handle the intensity of her gazes. Santana's completely filthy in her leering, and Brittany can't say she's less lascivious. (Brittany only thinks about Santana, Santana, Santana.)

Santana's finding any excuse to tease fingertips up Brittany's bare arms, to press palms along Brittany's thighs, to trail hands across Brittany's hips- and Brittany has never wanted to lose herself in Santana more. Brittany feels alive for the first time in over a month basking in Santana's presence, soaking up her heat like Santana's the sun that lights up Brittany's life.

And she's never loathed Rachel and Kurt's existence more.

She's grateful for them existing- of course she is- they've taken such good care of Santana when she couldn't and given her a place she belongs, but-

As long as they are hovering like overly dramatic vultures over them, Brittany can't kiss Santana. She can't grab Santana's firm, amazing ass that's been provoking her all night beneath the tight black dress Santana's wearing. She can't dart her tongue out beneath Santana's earlobe just to hear her moan, delicious and low in her throat. She can't press Santana to the wall and sink two fingers into her tight, wet-

Because even though Brittany knows that Rachel and Kurt know that she and Santana have been secretly hooking up, she has to pretend that they _don't_. There are rules to the game they are all engaged in, and even though it's frustrating, Brittany has to play along for Santana's sake, and for Sam's- she'd completely forgotten about him (Brittany only thinks about Santana, Santana, Santana)- so she takes another sip of her G&T to keep from exploding from the amount of her longing.

And then Santana breaks the rules.

Brittany feels Santana move into place close behind her, feels Santana's hot hands slide sensually around her waist, pulling Brittany back into her so that Brittany's ass pushes against Santana's molten center, feels Santana's warm, heavy breaths in her ear, purring, _Come dance with me, B._

Brittany feels the shudder rip through her involuntarily and has to actively fight to control herself, control her hips from grinding back into the girl behind her, because she wants Santana so, so much, and now Santana's _touching_ her-

Brittany quickly downs the rest of her drink and turns. Her blue eyes meet heated brown ones, and Santana's hands move intimately from Brittany's hips to her hands, pulling her towards the dance floor, and Brittany spares a fleeting thought for Rachel and Kurt, who are nowhere to be seen. Did they leave, or-

But then Santana pulls her close and Brittany forgets to care. Her skin is practically vibrating with energy and arousal, like someone jabbed an electrical wire into her. Her face moves closer to Santana's automatically and they quickly lose themselves in each other, foreheads touching as Santana's hand slips around to Brittany's lower back, too low to be friendly and chaste, and her other hand rests on the back of Brittany's neck, holding her close, keeping their foreheads pressed together.

Santana licks her lips.

Brittany never stood a chance.

Brittany leans forward slightly, letting her lips brush against Santana's. She's shaking with desire to close the gap, to feel those plump lips pressed against hers, to suck on them, bite them, _anything_-

-and then she's gasping, because Santana's slipped her toned left thigh between Brittany's legs and started moving, started dancing, started rolling her hips, and Brittany whimpers at the delicious pressure and friction in the place where she needs it most.

Santana's eyes are dark with night, dark with want, and Brittany struggles to breathe, overwhelmed with Santana's clear desire added to her own, overwhelmed with the heat from Santana's proximity and the heat _caused_ by Santana's proximity blazing through her own body to end with a steady, aching, almost painful throb at her center, and finally she hears- no, _feels_- the song change, _feels_ the beat thrum through her skin and into her heart, bringing her to life. All of the sensations make Brittany feel alive for the first time in over a month, and she trails her fingertips up Santana's sides daringly to bring her arms up level to her head, to give Santana a _show_, because surely Brittany can't be the only one about to break-

Brittany smirks inwardly at Santana's heavy moan in response to the sight of her dancing, and she rolls her hips expertly, runs her hands down her own body, as if taunting Santana- _don't you wish these were _your_ hands?_ and then back up, just barely groping her own breasts on the way, to tangle in her blonde hair, as if reminding Santana- _I do this when you're going down on me_- And suddenly Santana's dragging her closer, pressing her thigh more firmly into her, and Brittany releases a loud, shaky moan, bucks her hips, drops her head to the shelf of Santana's shoulder. She inhales the scent of Santana's skin, letting it addle her senses, letting it intoxicate her. (She wasn't drunk, but now she thinks she might be.)

Boldly, with more and more of her control slipping due to her proximity to Santana, Brittany drags her lips up Santana's neck, aching so badly to kiss it, to suck on it, to bite it and mark her (she can't- there are rules) and then she's right_ there…_ and then she can't resist; she slips her tongue out, slowly teases the spot under Santana's earlobe, feels the moan rumble out of her throat, feels Santana's grip tighten, and Brittany's so wet she can feel it on her thighs, and wonders if Santana can feel it on hers.

The loud, fast pulse of the music matches Brittany's as she loses herself to dancing so intimately with Santana. Santana's holding her hips, pulling her into the thrust of her pelvis as they dance, and Brittany closes her eyes and just breathes, closes her eyes and tries to think. (Brittany only thinks of Santana, Santana, Santana.) Brittany closes her eyes and listens to the music, feels it vibrate through her.

When Santana pulls back slightly, Brittany lets her mouth stray to Santana's jaw. She hears Santana's breath hitch and she sucks there, lets her teeth nip, and then Santana's warm palm presses into her lower back, pushes Brittany harder into her dirty grinding motion, and Brittany knows she can get off this way, just a few more thrusts-

But Santana knows, too- can sense it in the animalistic way Brittany moves against her, in the shudders that roll through her- and pulls her thigh away without warning. Teeth find Brittany's earlobe and then Santana's breathing into her ear in her low, raspy, arousal-filled voice, _I want you so much, Britt._

Brittany shivers, but lets her hand slide up to tangle in Santana's hair, tugging it slightly, knowing it drives her girl crazy. Brittany wants what Santana wants. She can hardly breathe, she wants it so much. Her heart is pounding, her blood is racing, her center is throbbing with need- her senses are alive with Santana, and she half-moans against Santana's neck, missing Santana's thigh pressed against her. _Then why haven't you had me yet?_

_I haven't decided if I can wait long enough to leave here or not._

Santana's hands grab her ass and pull her against her, so that they are completely pressed together, and Brittany chokes back her embarrassingly loud moan at the flush pressure of her body against Santana's. _Won't Kurt and Rachel-_

_I'm past caring._

Brittany draws a shaky breath. _Then take me home, Santana. _

* * *

_Fuck, San- fuck!_

_Shhh, Brittany_, Santana whispers, planting a kiss to the corner of Brittany's mouth. _You have to be quiet._

Brittany whimpers as Santana slows her thrusts down, instead staying inside of her, stroking inside of her.

_Can you stay quiet, B? _Santana teases, sounding amused.

_I d-don't- _Santana picks up the pace and_ -ugh, fuck, Santana!_

Brittany's moans are swallowed by Santana's hot mouth as she brings their lips together, and they kiss fiercely. Muffled by Santana, Brittany lets go, crying out over and over into Santana's mouth as Santana hits that spot inside her repeatedly, and Brittany knows Santana's arm must be burning from exertion as she fucks Brittany into oblivion. Brittany wraps her legs tightly around Santana as she gets closer to her release, and she breaks the kiss to gasp- _I love you._

Santana just kisses her again, fucks her faster, hits that spot, hits it, _hits_ it, and Brittany comes, mouth opening in a silent scream against Santana's jaw as her body arches, tenses, shakes.

_Fuck_, Santana whimpers into Brittany's neck, and Brittany shivers as Santana adjusts and brings her dripping core to Brittany's. It takes four jerky, erratic thrusts against the firm bone of Brittany's pelvis before Santana's hips are bucking forward in her release, and Brittany tries and fails to stifle her moan as she feels Santana's wetness coat her own, the difference in warmth of the sticky liquids bringing a sense of familiarity and calm to Brittany as she gulps air, her naked body sweaty against the sheets, trembling on her back in the aftermath of her orgasm.

Santana shifts and Brittany reaches up, pulls Santana to her, cradles her to her, cups her face, kisses her soft, kisses her fierce. Brittany revels in Santana's weight atop her and she lets their legs entwine together and hums quietly in content, stroking her fingers through Santana's damp hair.

Santana shivers in her arms and Brittany feels _alive_ for the first time in weeks.

* * *

**So next chapter we should return to our normally scheduled angst with a side of fluff, simply because of the material being covered. Fuck Glee forever! :D But it's okay, I FIX. Lol.**

**Anyways. Review if you feel like it. If you don't, well, okay then, catch you on the flipside. :D**

**See you next time!**


	11. Down

**AND NOW THE MOMENT YOU'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR!**

**Okay, probably no one has been waiting for it, but here it is anyway! :D**

**So, lmao- I know why Bram has to have some kind of catastrophe in order to get romantic: because Brittany wouldn't even realize Sam is alive otherwise. XD**

**Also, I've finally figured out why I hate Glee so much this season (besides the fact, that, you know- hashtag Brittana problems.) The issue is that Glee is supposed to be a musical **_**comedy**_**, and every issue they tackled in season 1 was ridiculous, or handled in a ridiculous manner- **_**like a comedy**_**. Go figure. However, somehow in seasons thereafter they decided to get "serious" about actual real issues, but they handled most of them stupidly. **

**-ascend soapbox of personal problems- I didn't start watching Glee because I wanted to deal with real life. If I wanted that, I'd watch a drama, like GA or any multitude of other shows that are **_**actually good**_** at dealing with real-life issues. Dealing with a school shooting someday is a very real possibility for me; so, no, sorry, I don't want to come home and watch a show about it. (It's the same reason why I don't watch police shows.) Glee is best when it remains true to itself and doesn't try to be something it's not- which is exactly what it's been doing lately, and exactly why it's failing. **

**ANYWAYS! Dealing with Bram this week was tough enough, but- at least we have hope for the future! Naya has never led us astray, and she knows better than to troll the fandom. She has remained respectfully silent regarding Brittana because, in my opinion, she didn't want to give us false hope or reassurances. So her tweet is all the more meaningful because of that, and yeah, I'm going to get my hopes up. :)**

**But until our blessed reunion in the finale, here's this little gem of angst to cover this week's all-around horrendous, shocking episode. Happy (slightly heavy) reading!  
**

* * *

_Tidal waves, they rip right through me  
Tears from eyes worn cold and sad  
Pick me up now, I need you so bad_

Brittany knows who's entered her room before she hears her name called by a voice so familiar she'd recognize it in her sleep, and she looks up from her position on the floor (hunched over with her knees drawn to her chest and arms locked tightly around her legs, shaking, shaking, shaking) to see Santana approaching her with hesitance, arm reaching cautiously toward her, as if drawing near a frightened animal. Brittany wonders distractedly- _Is that what she is?-_ and shakes her head.

_Britt?_ Santana tries again, and Brittany hears the fear, hears the concern, hears the relief and love and _anger_ (_who could do this to my girl?_) all rolled into her voice.

Brittany looks up- her eyes meet Santana's worried brown ones. She bites her lip to keep her tears at bay, because she knows Santana's scared, too- scared for _her_- and she doesn't want to frighten her further. She doesn't know how Santana managed to make it to Lima so quickly, or really at _all_, but then she eyes the clock by her bed (it's 9pm- has she really been sitting here that long?) and feels sick. How did Santana-

_Britt,_ Santana murmurs a third time, and Brittany re-focuses her attention on her because she's suddenly beside her, and when their eyes meet again, this time Brittany feels her control slipping; and then Santana places a gentle hand on her forearm, circling her thumb gently across her skin… and Brittany finally breaks.

_Oh, baby_, Santana breathes as Brittany falls into her arms, crying. Brittany grabs at Santana's shirt, sobbing hysterically, and Santana strokes reassuring fingers through Brittany's hair, whispers loving things in her ear, against her temple, against her neck (_you're safe, I've got you_) and just lets Brittany cry.

Brittany cries for a long time, her thoughts flying in every direction. She was scared- terrified, even- but not to die.

(_I was scared we'd never get our happy ending_.)

Her body shakes with sobs, but Santana's firm, reassuring hold doesn't loosen, doesn't waver. Santana stays solid and strong and Brittany is grateful, but can't help comparing Santana's reliable embrace to Sam's unsteady one following the event. (In his defense, Sam endured a similar trauma to Brittany's, but that didn't change Brittany's _needs_; and right now she needs support, she needs love and comfort- she needs Santana.)

Eventually, Brittany settles into Santana's arms. Santana's sitting propped up against the bed, and Brittany's lying back against her, her head resting on Santana's chest, her hands stroking up and down Santana's arms, which are securely wrapped around her, grounding her. Every so often, Santana presses a soft, calming kiss to Brittany's head, and Brittany sighs in relief, her thoughts becoming more focused now that she's partially let out her pent-up emotions and Santana's proximity has soothed her anxiety and fear.

They cuddle in silence, and Brittany knows Santana won't pressure her to talk (unlike Sam) and Brittany's grateful. She tries to recall what she'd been thinking of, what she'd been planning, before the traumatizing event- and bites her lip. It all seems so far away; even the shooting seems far away now that Santana's holding her. She snuggles down further against Santana and tightens her hold on Santana's arms.

For a moment, Brittany feels sad- she has Santana to make her feel better, but Sam only has her, and Brittany can't give him what he wants or needs. Sam is fragile, and he wears his heart on his sleeve, and he loves Brittany so much- and Brittany loves him, just as she loves all the important people in her life (Sam is important- _best friend_ important)- so how could Brittany reject his love after such a traumatic event? Brittany can be mean, but not heartless. She recognizes that there's a time to let someone down gently, and a time when it's okay to lie a little because it's the wrong time for truth. And Brittany's not heartless enough to break Sam's heart with rejection on top of the fresh wounds she and the others were still feeling.

Brittany does love Sam- he is important- because Santana is her best friend, but Santana is so much _more_, which means Brittany's best friend position was open, and Sam filled it. He's everything a best friend should be- everything Santana _used_ to be, except…

Except…

Except Sam doesn't make Brittany's pulse race from just a heated look, Sam doesn't make Brittany's heart pound with just the barest touch, Sam doesn't ignite Brittany's senses like Santana did, like Santana still does, like Santana always will. When the event happened, Brittany's first thought was that, with as many times as she wished Santana was still with her at McKinley, she's never been more glad that Santana _wasn't_- that it was _her_ locked in that bathroom stall, and _not_ _Santana_- because that meant Brittany wasn't worried about Santana; Santana was safe.

But her best friend- her _important_ friend- he _wasn't_.

Because- Sam is important. _Best friend_ important. And it took almost losing him for Brittany to realize she does care about him. Sam is nice. Sam is beautiful. Sam is tender, caring and comforting- but Sam is not Santana, and now that Santana's here, holding her, confirming Brittany's vitality, confirming that Brittany's alive and safe and with the most important being in her _entire_ life, (not just her McKinley one), Brittany's overwhelmed by how much love she feels for the girl behind her, and how it swallows and blocks out every feeling she might have for another.

Brittany recognizes the glaring difference in her feelings.

Brittany feels guilty- Sam is fragile, and he wears his heart on his sleeve, and he loves Brittany so much, is so desperate for Brittany to love him the way he wants, that he accepts everything Brittany tells him without question, he turns a blind eye when he should know better (because Brittany's love and longing for Santana is visible from space, right next to that ladybug meteorite, and Brittany sang a love song to her _cat_, but not to Sam) and Brittany can't help but remember another time when someone close to her was desperate for love she couldn't fully reciprocate-

_(Please say you love me back. Please.)_

Brittany takes a deep breath and pushes Sam out of her mind. She's made her decision (her heart, her soul, her entire _being_ made it _for_ her- she's going to leave this school and she's going to _get right_ with someone she loves very much) and nothing, _no one _makes her feel the way Santana did, the way Santana still does, the way Santana always will. She turns in Santana's arms and kisses her, and Santana hums against her lips, cupping her face, stroking gentle fingers through Brittany's blonde hair.

_How are you here?_ Brittany breathes against Santana's mouth after long moments of slow, lazy kissing.

_I flew,_ Santana says with a slight grin, her eyes half closed as their noses nudge each other and Brittany presses her entire body against Santana to reaffirm to herself that she's really there.

Brittany swallows- she's not dumb enough to ignore the fact that Santana's flight must've cost a small fortune, and that Santana must've spent a huge chunk of her graduation present on it, and- _But how did you-_

_Blaine called Kurt after_, Santana whispers, and Brittany cringes at the painful note in Santana's voice, in the silent _why didn't _you_ call _me _after?_ question in her tone.

_I didn't want to scare you-_

_You don't think I was scared anyway?_ Santana asks softly, without a trace of anger. Her tone only conveys love, only conveys relief, and she doesn't stop rubbing up and down Brittany's back as they breathe against each other, tangled. _I'm _still_ scared._

_Santana-_

_What if you-_ Santana manages in a choked whisper, and Brittany shakes her head quickly, refusing to accept the truth.

_I didn't. _

_But-_

_Shh, San. Just- just kiss me, okay?_

Santana swallows, giving Brittany the barest nod, before pressing her lips to Brittany's in a delicate- but searing- kiss.

Brittany doesn't know how they end up on her bed; she doesn't know how she ends up naked on her back, with Santana hovering over her, kissing every inch of her skin; but she _does_ know that she's never felt more treasured. Santana's lips trace every part of Brittany, and Brittany can feel the reverence and gratefulness in each touch. Santana demonstrates how much Brittany means to her in her own way. Her mouth conveys what her words cannot, and Brittany grips Santana's hand in hers and feels, feels, feels the love that Santana gives freely.

Brittany's heart pounds steadily, Santana's heart echoes it; Brittany's blood races through her body, Santana's pulse quickens under her skin; Brittany's breathing is ragged and heavy, Santana pants against her stomach.

Alive, alive, alive.

When Santana's lips find hers again, Brittany wraps arms around her shoulders, silently telling her, _Stay_ _close_.

Santana doesn't question, but settles against her, lets her left hand stroke gently down Brittany's body. Brittany inhales sharply as Santana fills her with two fingers, slipping in easily; and she's grateful that Santana takes it slow, slow, slow, caressing and soothing her.

It's not the time for fast and hard.

Santana builds her up gently- her body presses even closer. Brittany's surrounded by Santana: by her scent and warmth and the pressure of her slightly damp skin against her own, and she kisses her, ignoring the fact that she can't breathe, and focuses on the hammering of her own heart in her chest, and the feel of the thump of Santana's heart above and against and (she swears) _through_ her, and she lets out the smallest whimper as she approaches the edge. Brittany's grip tightens and it's Santana's encouraging words breathed over her lips that finally push her into her orgasm.

_You're safe, I've got you._

Her release crashes over her, and Brittany feels relief as the tension and the fear and the anxiety dissipate as a result. The negative feelings unfurl from her limbs as she relaxes back against the sheets, the small pulses of pleasure making her feel weightless. Santana plants kisses over her face, and Brittany feels a tear drip from the corner of her eye. Santana kisses it away, and Brittany holds her closer, trembling.

_How long can you-_

_As long as you need,_ Santana whispers. _My ticket was a one-way last minute deal, and by "last minute" I really mean that I threatened to go to the media to expose some sneaky scandal if they didn't let me on that plane._

_But is there a sneaky scandal?_ Brittany asks with a watery laugh.

Santana shrugs, offering her a smirk. _Who knows? The publicity won't be good either way._

_But what about your-_

Santana silences her with a kiss. When she pulls back, she says, _I told my job that my Great Uncle Enrique contracted a rare brain parasite from swimming in Lake Malawi during his African mission trip,_ and the whole absurd sentence makes Brittany laugh through her tears, first because Santana doesn't have a _Great Uncle Enrique_, and second because Brittany knows Santana secretly likes the History Channel. Santana kisses the side of her head and Brittany smiles for the first time since being trapped in that horrible stall.

Brittany's not completely okay. (She's not sure if she'll ever be _completely_ okay again without Santana by her side.) But she feels as okay as she possibly can, and feels even better than she ever thought possible now that Santana's lying against her.

* * *

It's days later- the weekend- and Brittany's lying naked against Santana again (just like she has for the past few nights) when she feels the need to unburden herself. She's made her decision (her heart, her soul, her entire _being_ made it _for_ her- she's going to leave this school and she's going to _get right_ with someone she loves very much) and nothing, _no one_ makes her feel the way Santana did, the way Santana still does, the way Santana always will.

_Sam told me he loved me,_ Brittany whispers after a long while. _He was really scared, and- and he wanted to come find me when it happened._ She looks up, trying to find Santana's eyes. She wants Santana to know that, if Santana _can't_ (because Santana is so much _more_), then Sam is at least a good placeholder, that he is important. (_Best friend_ important.)

Santana kisses Brittany's hand, and her eyes shut tightly in pain. Brittany can sense the question Santana wants to ask, the question she's too scared to voice because she's too afraid of the answer, and Brittany remembers that Santana is fragile, and she wears her heart on her sleeve, and she loves Brittany so much-

_(Please say you love me back. Please.)_

_(I love you, Santana. I love you more than I've ever loved anyone.)_

_(I will always love you the most.)_

_(I love you._)

_I love _you, Brittany blurts, and though she's never stopped saying it, she feels as though a great weight has been lifted from her chest as she kisses Santana fiercely. She said what she needed to say, and she's made her decision (she's going to _get right_ with someone she loves very much), and she will always choose Santana.

Santana's tension disappears, and she melts against Brittany, and they kiss and kiss and kiss.

Brittany knows what's really _important_ to her. But she didn't need the threat of dying to figure it out, because she's always known- the most important being in her life is Santana.

It was always Santana, and it will always be Santana.

* * *

**SO THAT'S ALL I'VE GOT.**

**But if you need more, or you're totally bummed about the Bram in the episode, or if you just haven't read it yet, then I highly suggest reading the flawless JJ's analysis of the episode. I read it after writing this chapter and I'm pretty sure I somehow robbed her brain because we had a lot of the same thoughts about Brittana stuffs- only she's waaaaaay more articulate than I am, so. You know. Read her shit. :')**

**themostrandomfandom dot tumblr dot com slash post/47766625424/and-now-for-your-quick-draw-take- it-or-leave-it**

**I trust ya'll can figure out what to do with that. **

**Review if you want to in order to tell me if I managed to help salvage this episode, at least a little, for you…. Or don't if you feel **_**down**_**. (OUCWUTIDIDTHURR?!)**

**And plz join me next week, where I will be completely ignoring what happens in the episode of Glee (because- no Brittana, no fucks, amirite?) but shanghaiing the theme of "sweet dreams" like a boss anyways! :D**

**STAY POSITIVE, and remember: Brittana is endgame! :D **

**See you next week, peeps! **


	12. I Just Called to Say I Love You

**Okay, okay- since Glee went with Stevie Wonder, I chose a Stevie Wonder song, too! WOW!**

**Haha this can kind of fit with either this week or last week's episode, it doesn't really matter since the two episodes are close together. It could even happen directly after "Sweet Dreams" if you want, too. It's up to you! CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE! **

**So I have a theory on why Kurt and Rachel don't ever mention Brittany: they ship Brittana and they aren't worried, obviously. They know Brittana is endgame! 8D~**

**Good news, as this season comes to a close, this story will, too, at least for the summer since it's canon-based. However, writing about canon has been kind of a nice activity, so as a summer project to replace this story, I will be starting a new story, composed entirely of smutty FLUFF this time, inspired by episodes from seasons 1 and 2, to get us through the long, long summer waiting for Brittana next season. I'm going down with this ship, guys! I hope you'll continue to sail with me. :)**

**As usual, thanks for all the reviews, favorites, follows, what-have-yous! You're all awesome! **

**Happy reading!**

* * *

_But what it is, though old, so new_

_To fill your heart like no three words could ever do_

_I just called to say I love you_

_And I mean it from the bottom of my heart_

Brittany doesn't know what's gotten into Santana, but she finds it exceedingly difficult to care with Santana's fingers buried knuckle-deep inside her while Brittany straddles her on the couch.

She's supposed to be in Boston already; she'd told Sam she was, but she finds it exceedingly difficult to care that he's expecting her home in a few days when Santana's right hand is squeezing her ass and the heel of Santana's left hand is putting the most delicious pressure on her clit. Santana is merciless between her legs, and Brittany grips the back of the couch with one hand and the back of Santana's neck with the other, nuzzling her face into Santana's neck, breathing in her scent as she rides Santana's fingers.

Brittany never stood a chance.

_Does he know you're riding my fingers right now?_ Santana demands huskily, and Brittany feels pleasure shoot down her spine at the words and the meaning behind them, at Santana's low voice in her ear, at Santana's hot breath against her skin, making the hair on the back of Brittany's neck tingle, because- (Brittany hates the thrill that runs through her at Santana's words, but she was made to ride Santana's fingers.)

_No_, Brittany gasps- chokes, really- and she grips Santana's neck tighter, _oh, _God_-_

_I want you to be only mine, Britt_, Santana breathes against Brittany's jaw before branding a hot kiss there, and Brittany shudders at a particularly sharp thrust of Santana's fingers.

_I am_, Brittany insists, her thighs tensing as she nears her release, but she's not there yet-

Only_ mine, B_, Santana clarifies, pushing harder, deeper, and Brittany cries out, her nails digging rivets into the couch, her hand sliding up to clench at Santana's hair like it's the only thing anchoring her to the Earth.

_Fuck- please- Santana-_ Brittany doesn't even know what she's saying anymore, her legs are shaking and she's strangling Santana's fingers inside her with how bad she wants- _needs_- release.

_Tell me you love me_, Santana demands lowly, her voice like smoked honey.

_I love you, Santana,_ Brittany blurts immediately, pleading, breath coming in heavy gasps. _I love you_, she says again, and Santana pounds into her, rewarding. _Fuck, I love you, love you so _much_-_ _ah_-

Brittany comes with a loud cry, throwing her head back and letting the crashing waves of her orgasm roll through her as Santana continues to stroke her slowly, reverently. Brittany bucks her hips, panting, feeling like she's going to shake apart with the intensity of her release, and Santana kisses her face tenderly before Brittany crashes their lips together with a panting moan. Brittany doesn't know what's gotten into Santana, but she finds it exceedingly difficult to care when she's gasping for breath as she comes down from such a powerful orgasm.

And yet-

Brittany slides off of Santana's lap, collapsing heavily beside her on the couch, but lets her smooth, bare legs stretch across Santana's. She struggles to catch her breath, her thoughts racing as she reaches up to push sweaty blonde hair out of her face while Santana strokes soothingly up and down her thighs. Brittany clenches her thighs together, shivering at the tiny bursts of pleasure that shoot through her, suddenly completely aware that she's sitting on the couch in the loft, completely naked from the waist down, with only Santana's snug hoodie on and nothing underneath. She shivers, also suddenly completely aware of the slight chill on her damp skin, and finds Santana's hand blindly, gripping it and laying her head on Santana's shoulder. Brittany presses a contemplative kiss to Santana's neck, and Santana hums in response.

Brittany's thoughts race at what Santana suggested in the heat of the moment (_only mine_) and her heart speeds up, but clenches painfully at the implications. Boston _isn't_ closer to New York than Louisville is to Lima, so if she makes the decision to go to MIT, it won't fix things for them, and even though they've been doing better at the long distance thing recently (and especially since Santana isn't tied up with a rigid schedule for cheerleading practice) Brittany still has months left until graduation.

Brittany isn't certain of her feelings on the subject- she wants Santana so, so much, wants to be _only hers_ more than anything, except-

except-

except Brittany _is_ certain of one thing- she cannot handle another _unofficial_ break up.

Brittany swallows thickly. She wants to ask Santana about what she said, but she's not sure where to start, and even though Santana has gotten better about talking about things (like _feelings_) Brittany still avoids pushing her. She squeezes Santana's hand, and tries to sort through her jumbled thoughts.

Does being _only Santana's_ mean that Brittany should move to New York? Santana hasn't asked her to- was she ever going to? Was that Santana's way of asking? Is Brittany reading too much into things? Does Santana even _want_ her to move to New York?

Brittany swallows, feeling self-doubt creeping into her mind. Santana said she wants Brittany to be _only hers_- and Brittany knows Santana loves her- but she also can't help flashing back to the way she felt her Junior year, when Santana _claimed_ she wanted her, but-

(_Yeah, I'd say that's accurate_.)

No, Santana's matured since then. She's changed. She's-

_What're you thinking, B?_ Santana whispers, before pressing a hesitant kiss to Brittany's temple.

Brittany chews her lip, but ultimately tries to test the waters. _About Boston._

_I'm sorry I can't go with you_, Santana apologizes quickly, her voice sincere and full of regret.

_I know you have work-_

_Yeah, but it's important to you, and I want to more than anything,_ Santana admits. Then, in a smaller, far more vulnerable voice she says, _I want to be involved in planning your future._

Brittany swallows, feeling overwhelming emotion rising in her chest, in her throat. And, _God_, how is Santana so- _Yeah? _she whispers shyly, stroking her thumb over the back of Santana's hand, which is still gripped tightly in her own.

Their eyes meet, and Brittany sees the devotion and honesty shining in Santana's warm coffee eyes, and she leans forward, letting her lips press to Santana's, letting her lips express her gratitude and love and-

_No, of course I'm not going to bring that up, are you insane?_ Rachel's voice breaks through the loft, and Brittany hears the sound of shuffling and the front door closing. _I don't really want to talk about that right now, it's still a sore subject._ Brittany turns to look and sees Rachel on her cell phone, bags in hand. Rachel waves and mouths _Hey_ and then sweeps to her room, talking loudly. _If I'd heard from him you'd be the first to know, and I'm not going to _serenade_ her-_

Brittany giggles nervously, trying to diffuse the tension that had settled in her from the previous serious moment. She feels light and heavy all at once, and when she looks at Santana, she's greeted with a smirk.

_What?_ Brittany murmurs.

Santana grins. _She didn't even notice you aren't wearing pants._

Brittany sucks her lips into her mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

* * *

Brittany takes another long sip of her drink, catching Santana's eyes behind the bar. Santana had to go to work, and Brittany was more than happy to accompany her. She'd been to Santana's workplace the last time she'd visited- with Santana- but for the first time, Brittany looks around at the bar and tries to make it feel more _permanent_.

Her last trip to New York was a _visit_, and nothing more. Santana's life had stopped to accommodate her; but this time, Brittany stopped in New York on her way elsewhere, and now she's treated to the way Santana's life runs normally, and she thinks she really, really likes it.

Santana's been sneaking her drinks all night (been sneaking her smiles all night) and Brittany's been enjoying the boisterous music, the performances, and the atmosphere. It's friendly and loud and with the unrestrained, carefree dancing on bars, it gives Brittany the same kind of feelings that Glee Club gives her.

For the first time, Brittany tries to imagine what _living_ in New York would be like, instead of just _visiting_. She knows she shouldn't get her hopes up- Santana hasn't asked her (_if_ she does, _when_ she does- _yet_) but she's on her third G&T and feeling a good, happy buzz, so she allows her thoughts to be happy, too.

Santana's already performed numerous times, delighting the crowd with her dancing and singing and charm, and Brittany's delighted and charmed when Santana dedicates a performance to her (to _the best thing that's ever been mine_) and the sparkle that ignites Santana's eyes and the smile that lights up Santana's face as she performs is so bright it makes Brittany think of a supernova, or a white hot explosion, or an orgasm, maybe-

Brittany swallows and takes another sip of her drink.

When Santana's shift ends late that night (but not too late- Santana's boss had let her off a little early on account of Brittany being there) they take the subway back to Brooklyn, but Santana gets them off at an earlier stop. Brittany is no professional at navigating the subways (she tries to imagine what it would be like, making the subway more _permanent_) but she does know which stop is theirs, and she shoots Santana a questioning look.

Santana just beams at her, sliding her fingers into the spaces between Brittany's fingers and locking their hands together, tugging her close. Brittany can tell by the look on Santana's face that she's just as buzzed as Brittany is, but as they climb the dirty stairs up to the street, Brittany just lets her happy feelings soak into her. It's a nice night- just a little bit chilly, but the alcohol in her system and Santana's body pressed close to her side are both keeping her comfortable, and she giggles as Santana pulls her along.

_Where are we going?_ Brittany laughs, letting Santana drag her as they walk through a far nicer section of Brooklyn than Brittany ever imagined.

_Come onnnn, B_, Santana whines, walking backwards and reaching for Brittany's other hand.

Brittany smiles teasingly and gives her other hand to Santana, but then stops suddenly and pulls Santana close, mashing their lips together.

Santana giggles against her mouth and wraps arms around Brittany's neck, rolling up onto her tiptoes to push her body even closer, and Brittany tries not to let her heart fly away as she wonders if this is really her life, and imagines it being her life forever (_if, when, yet_).

When their lips part, Santana releases a slow, shaky breath, her eyes half-open and a lazy, satisfied smile on her face. She strokes fingers through the hair at the back of Brittany's neck. _We're almost there._

_Okay,_ Brittany relents, releasing her tight hold on Santana's waist, and then they're walking again, but Santana's turning to grin brightly at her every few steps, and Brittany's pretty sure her heart _did_ actually fly away.

Or, no, it didn't, because now her heart is pounding, and her breath is gone, and she's utterly, utterly speechless.

Brittany's steps slow to a stop and she struggles to do something, anything, other than breathing. Her thoughts have left her (this can't be her life because it's too perfect, and Santana is too perfect, and any minute she's going to wake up and have to go to school and see _Sam_ instead of the beautiful girl that's watching _her_ and hasn't spared a single glance to the panoramic, breathtaking view behind her) and she can't even imagine something like this being _permanent_, because she hasn't even decided if it's real or not.

Santana leads her to stand on a bench so that she can see the view without the iron fence obstructing it, and somewhere in the back of her mind Brittany realizes that they are completely alone because of the late hour, but even if they weren't, all she can see is Santana and the city, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

Santana wraps tender arms around her from behind and they stand comfortably in silence, no words needed, their breaths syncing from their proximity (when Brittany finally dares to breathe again.)

After long, content moments, they wordlessly turn to start making the walk home (because catching another train at that hour would take just as long as the walk) their hands clasped securely between them, and Brittany contemplates what Santana meant in bringing her to the promenade. (Was that Santana's way of asking? Is Brittany reading too much into things? Does Santana even _want_ her to move to New York?)

(_if, when, yet_)

Brittany wants Santana so, so much, but-

_I love you, Brittany,_ Santana says quietly, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. Santana looks at her, and their eyes meet, and Santana _looks_ at her. _You know that, right?_

Brittany nods, biting her lip.

Santana's thumb circles the back of Brittany's hand, nervously, and she nods. _Okay,_ she says, her eyes searching Brittany's. Santana faces forward again, still nodding absently. _Okay._

* * *

When Brittany's in Boston late the next day, alone in her hotel room and preparing herself to visit the MIT campus the following morning, she wonders if she could feel _permanent_ in Boston- and then knows the answer.

She's only _permanent_ where Santana is; and Santana isn't _involved_ in planning Brittany's future, she _is_ Brittany's future. Brittany's seen the end of their story, the _happily ever after_, and there is no future, no _permanent_, without Santana.

(_if, when, yet_)

* * *

**There will probably be one more chapter, if I'm not dead from feelings from the season finale… Which, at this rate, I will be updating the final chapter from the grave. 8')~**

**I hope you all watch the season finale and bask in the Brittana love. I'll be right there with you, breaking my 13-episode abstinence, and weeping with bittersweet joy. **

**Review if you feel like commenting on this fluffy piece of cloud, but if not, well, that's okay. It's not for everyone. **

**See you guys next time! :)**


	13. Time After Time

**Holy FUCK I was not prepared for the feels that I got from writing this chapter, oh my GOD.**

**Anyways!**

**I won't talk much, because I'm going to talk a LOT at the end. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, read, etc. the last chapter. I hope you enjoy this final chapter.**

**~And stay tuned after the story, for a (long) word from your sponsor! XD~**

* * *

_Lying in my bed I hear the clock tick and think of you_

_Caught up in circles confusion is nothing new_

_If you're lost, you can look, and you will find me_

_If you fall, I will catch you- I'll be waiting_

_Time after time_

Brittany knows as soon as she tells Santana about MIT that Santana won't ask her to come live with her in New York; because Brittany would drop MIT in an instant, and she knows Santana knows that.

(Brittany would drop _everything_ in an instant to be with Santana.)

But MIT is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and Santana has never been selfish when it comes to Brittany. She's always loved her enough to let her go, to let Brittany follow her dreams- even if it means being away from Santana for a little longer.

What Santana doesn't know, though, is that _Santana_ is Brittany's dream, and that, if Santana asked her, Brittany would drop MIT in an instant to be with Santana.

(Brittany would drop _everything_ in an instant to be with Santana.)

And now, Brittany has a choice to make. She could _lie_- she could continue to push Santana away and hold her at a distance on Brittany's _ridiculous melted cheese show_ (and yet Santana's sitting opposite her, playing along, and despite the circumstances, Brittany's heart beats, beats, beats) and keep this important secret, because it would mean she could be with Santana sooner. She could suffer at McKinley for a few more months, get her diploma, and then... What? Struggle in college in New York? Ride on the coattails of Santana's fame and success? What could Brittany possibly offer Santana, anyways? Brittany's not stupid- she doesn't expect to be famous like Santana, or on Broadway like Rachel, or have a (failed) record deal like Mercedes. She's not stupid, but the rest of the world- everyone except Santana- will never believe that.

Except-

Except now MIT _does _believe that. MIT has figured out what Santana has known for ages, and now Brittany has a chance- a _real_ chance- to show Santana that _she was right_, that Brittany is a genius, and now Brittany sees a future for them where she's just as capable of providing for Santana as Santana is for her. Santana's always protected her and taken care of her, and Brittany knows that dreams- especially the kind of dreams Santana has- don't come easily, or quickly. And maybe Brittany could protect Santana, could take care of Santana, if she succeeds at MIT- at least until Santana's own dreams can come true.

Santana won't have to settle down with a Two-Time Senior- a _Lima Loser_- who barely graduated and has no future; Santana will settle down with an _MIT Graduate_. Brittany has no idea what that will mean, or where she will go from there- but does it matter? It can only, only, only ever be good.

Even if it means being apart from Santana for a little longer.

So when Santana finally drops her defenses- when Santana shows Brittany that she cares, and that she's never _not_ cared about her- when she shows Brittany that she's no longer _black_, that she's moved on, matured- well, what can Brittany do but relent and open up to her?

Even if it means being apart from Santana for a little longer.

* * *

Brittany knew Santana would find her.

And maybe she just wanted to have a moment where it's _just them_- just like it's always been, because yeah, Glee Club was the setting_ (It's where we fell in love) _but the story is theirs. It's always been about _them_. They joined together, they found each other, and at the end of the day, when the lights and the costumes are gone, it will always be _just them_.

(_It's where we fell in love_.)

And Santana will always, always find her.

* * *

_Wait_, Brittany breathes, before they get to the choir room, and she tugs Santana back from the door and a few steps down the hall.

_What's up, Britt-Britt?_ Santana asks, slipping so easily into the old nickname, slipping so easily into the old _them_, now that they are walking down familiar halls wrapped in each other.

Brittany answers Santana with her mouth- pressed up against Santana's. Brittany reaches up to tangle fingers in Santana's hair, pulling her closer as Santana kisses her back, and it's sweet and intimate and Brittany feels her heart racing- not from arousal, but from the feeling of being loved so deeply and so strongly that it makes her feel like a genius, makes her believe in her own magic, if someone so wonderful and perfect could love her the way Santana loves her; could catch her the way Santana catches her when she falls; could always, always find her.

Santana slides her free arm around Brittany and when their kiss ends, presses their foreheads together. Brittany smiles, squeezes Santana's hand where it's still locked tightly to her own, and laughs a little, so happy that she's sure she's going to wake up any second, so happy that it fills her entire body and threatens to explode out of her chest. Santana's smile mirrors Brittany's, and Brittany reaches up to trace her thumb over the dimple in her cheek before she leans down to press a gentle, lingering kiss there.

When Santana turns her head and catches Brittany's lips, Brittany feels her heart race for a different reason. The kiss turns heated quickly and Santana's free hand slides to Brittany's thigh, teasing fingertips under the hem of her dress, and Brittany inhales sharply in Santana's mouth. She tightens her grip on Santana's hand and Santana pushes her back against the lockers, her mouth straying down Brittany's jaw, down Brittany's neck, and Brittany focuses on the lockers on the other side of the hall, desperate to be quiet as Santana's hand slides up her stomach to squeeze at her breasts through the fabric of her dress. Brittany wonders if this will be the last time they make out in these hallways, and she smiles, because she's not _left behind_ anymore, she's _leaving_, and the only time she wants to make out in these halls again with Santana is at their ten-year high school reunion-

_San_, she groans as Santana starts sucking at her skin, as teeth graze her shoulder, and she tugs Santana's hair lightly. _We've got to-_

_Uh-huh_, Santana pants against the base of her neck, and she kisses her neck a few more times before reluctantly pulling back. Their eyes meet, and then they're kissing again, fiercely. _Okay_, Santana says as she pulls back at last, looking like it's the last thing in the world she wants to do, and it's the last thing in the world Brittany wants her to do, but-

They walk to the choir room door, and with a reluctant sigh, Santana drops Brittany's hand (it's too soon- not for _them_, but for everyone else, but for _Sam_) and they share a look, an unspoken promise between them. Santana smiles softly at her, and Brittany's heart beats, beats, beats with happiness, with futures, with possibilities-

It will always be _just them_.

* * *

After the choir room, when they are at the Breadstix after-party with the rest of the Glee Club and the newlyweds, and Santana's bare thigh is pressed so close to Brittany's in the booth, and Santana's warmth and smell invades Brittany's senses, and Santana's hand is locked with Brittany's under the table, Brittany will be glad that her last time at Breadstix is with Santana when they are _them_. She didn't like coming to Breadstix with Sam, because Sam wasn't Santana, and Breadstix was _theirs_- but she didn't like not being reminded of Santana more, so she would come in a secret attempt to feel closer to her.

(_I wish you'd hold my hand_.)

Brittany squeezes Santana's hand under the table, secret, secret, secret.

Santana smiles at Brittany over the rim of her glass, and Brittany feels like her heart might explode.

* * *

At the _after_-after party at Marley's house- since her _turd of a song_ is partly why they won Regionals, Brittany grudgingly admits- Brittany stays close to Santana's side the whole night, drawn to her like a magnet. She aches to hold Santana's hand but knows she can't (it's too soon- not for _them_, but for everyone else, but for _Sam_) and instead watches her secretly, her cheeks heating up as Santana brags about how smart Brittany is to everyone at the party.

Sam looks sad and deflated, and Brittany feels a little bit sorry for him, because Sam is nice. Sam is beautiful. Sam is tender, caring, and comforting. But Sam is not Santana- Sam never believed in Brittany the way Santana did (_What? She cheated!_) and Brittany was a little- or a _lot_- harsh in breaking up with him, but she'd been planning it for a while (she's going to _get right_ with someone she loves very much) and with MIT giving her the final reassurance that she wasn't stuck in McKinley for another few long, agonizing months, she followed through. She'd been harsh because she needed Sam to understand, completely- it was Santana, it was _always_ Santana, and it would always be Santana.

Sam made Brittany feel smart, but only by comparison- like Brittany was only smart because Sam was so _not_ smart, but it didn't actually mean Brittany was smart. It was like having two donuts that fell in the sand, and getting the one that had less sand on it, but in the end, she was still left with a sandy donut, and Brittany just wanted a normal one-

Still, Brittany offers Sam a weak smile, and he returns it. And then his smile falls, and he waves tentatively, and it takes a second for Brittany to notice-

Santana's waving at him, a smirk on her face.

And Brittany feels a sense of déjà vu, when not even a month ago, Santana and Sam's roles were reversed at the first-time wedding of Will and Emma, and now it's the second-time wedding and Santana's doing the waving and Brittany remembers all her longing and sadness from _then_ and swallows. Her throat feels dry (is it Quinn? Is it someone else?) and she finds herself wandering back into the house to get herself a drink.

On the way there, she's stopped by Mercedes, who personally congratulates her and offers her a genuine, proud smile. They stand alone in the hallway, talking for a moment, Brittany accepting Mercedes' praise because she _deserves_ it, and nothing makes her happier than proving to people who once doubted her intelligence- especially people she _cares_ about- that they were wrong about her.

_That's really amazing_, Mercedes says, smiling as Brittany tells her about _The Brittany Code_, and Brittany feels her heartbeat quicken as a smooth voice chimes in,

She's_ amazing._

And then she feels warm fingers sliding between her own, a hand tenderly holding hers, and then Santana's leaning in and pressing a kiss to Brittany's cheek, and Brittany looks at Santana like she's the only thing in the world, and Mercedes rolls her eyes.

_Well, it's nice to know that hell hasn't frozen over _just_ yet_, she scoffs as she turns away, shaking her head, and Brittany thinks she knows what Mercedes means because it would take more than that for Brittany to _not_ look at Santana like she's _everything_, and-

_Here_, Santana murmurs quietly, handing Brittany a glass. Brittany's heart feels like it's going to explode, because Santana will always, always find her.

In lieu of thanks, Brittany takes a huge sip and raises an eyebrow in question.

Santana shrugs._ Yeah, I know- but did you really expect alcohol at this lame–ass party?_ She says with a roll of her eyes. Brittany smiles and lets Santana tug her back outside to the courtyard.

* * *

Music is playing and all their friends are dancing- silly- and they dance with them for a while- sillier- and then the song changes to something more slow, something more romantic, and Brittany bites her lip, hesitating.

Santana doesn't hesitate.

She pulls Brittany close, slides an arm around her, locks their hands together and tucks her face into Brittany's neck, breathing her in, and Brittany holds Santana closer, and it's all she wants as Billy Joel croons from the speakers and Santana's moist lips press to her skin, sending shivers down her spine. They dance slowly, intimately, lost in each other. Brittany leans her head against Santana's and it's too soon, but she doesn't care, because she's spent the last few months of her life missing and wasting and she refuses to miss or waste anymore. She's not _left behind_, she's _leaving_, and she _deserves_ it, deserves the happiness trying to burst out of her chest.

It's too soon, but Brittany doesn't care, because it will never be fast enough to make up for lost time.

Brittany only wants Santana, so she closes her eyes and focuses on the gentle sway of their bodies and the pressure of Santana's warm skin against her and the sound of the music and lets herself get lost.

(Because she's not lost anymore- Santana will always, always find her.)

* * *

It's minutes later and they're kissing feverishly in the dark hall, secluded and alone. Brittany pulls back, trying to catch her breath, and Santana smiles a smile so full of love and admiration that it makes Brittany feel like she's falling and she's even more breathless. Fingers play with the hair on the back of Brittany's neck and Brittany closes her eyes at the feeling, focusing on the warmth of Santana's hand in hers.

_Let's get out of here_, Brittany breathes against Santana's lips, and smiles at the way Santana's breath catches in her throat.

Santana's fingers stroke through her hair a little faster, nervous as she says, _And go where?_

_Anywhere_, Brittany whispers, pleading. _I just don't want to go home yet._

Santana just nods and pulls Brittany into another heated kiss.

* * *

They're driving around in Santana's dad's car (Santana's parents sold Santana's car when she moved to New York, since she wouldn't need it) and Brittany's not sure if her face is still intact or if it cracked from smiling too widely. She can't take her eyes off of Santana, and she doesn't want to. Everything feels surreal, and Brittany can't remember the last time she's been so happy. Santana hasn't let go of her hand, hasn't stopped driving, and Brittany loves just riding in the passenger seat listening to music and laughing with Santana more than she can say.

A part of Brittany realizes she should be sad, but Brittany isn't. Would she miss McKinley? No, not really. Her moment (her friends' moment, Santana's moment) came and left without her _last year_. She was _left behind_, like she missed an important flight, or that time she didn't get on the bus to return home from a Cheerios competition and her parents had to come find her, only no one came to find her this year, except-

Except Santana. Santana always believed in her, and as much as Brittany said she would miss Glee Club, it's just never been the same (it's always been _just them_, but without Santana she was just _left behind_)- the most important part of it was missing. Brittany couldn't look at Santana when she said her good-bye speech (it wasn't goodbye, it was _until we find each other again_) because she remembers too much. Santana chose the choir room as her location to set Brittany free (_it's where we fell in love_) and Brittany never answered when Santana said she counted Brittany's smiles.

Brittany wasn't counting Santana's smiles.

Brittany was counting the number of times Santana looked at her like _that_- like Brittany was the smartest person in the world, like Brittany was a genius, and Brittany counted the number of times Santana made her heart feel like it was going to explode right out of her chest from finally feeling like she was worth something- for finally starting to believe in her own magic.

_So Sugar told me at the party that you brought _My Cup_ back_, Santana says with a flirty smile, and Brittany grins and squeezes Santana's hand and nods. _I bet it was epic. I'm actually really bummed that I missed out on its triumphant return._

Brittany knows what Santana's doing, and she lets her. She opens her mouth and the words to _My Cup_ come spilling out, and then Santana's chiming in, filling in Arty's back-up vocals, harmonizing with her, and Brittany is reminded of all the times they used to do this together in high school with every silly song on the radio- in the car, in their rooms, before, after and during Glee Club practice, and soon they're both screaming at the top of their lungs and dancing in their seats as they coast along the deserted backstreets of Lima, too late for normal people to be out driving around.

They stop at a red light and burst into hysterical giggles, absolutely pleased with themselves, and then before Brittany can process what's happening Santana's kissing her, and they're gripping each other tightly, and Santana's tongue slips past Brittany's lips and then a car horn is bleeping angrily from behind them.

Santana pulls back, blushing. They're both panting and the car behind them swerves angrily, the driver giving them a pointed glare as it passes, the engine roaring with rage as it accelerates, leaving them idling at the green light. Santana clears her throat, their eyes meet. Brittany offers Santana a small smile.

Santana turns back to the road and drives, and Brittany tugs Santana's hand into her lap and toys with her fingers, tracing absent-minded patterns on her palm as she angles her body towards Santana, wishing to be as close as possible to her. They drive in comfortable silence.

Santana doesn't let go of Brittany's hand.

* * *

When they turn down Brittany's street, Brittany's heart feels like it's in her throat. It's pounding with anticipation, and Brittany senses her grip tightening on Santana's hand as they approach the house. Santana parks on the street, and Brittany wants to invite Santana in more than anything.

(Brittany doesn't know when she will see Santana again, but she hopes, she hopes, she hopes-)

Santana gets out of the car silently, and Brittany nearly breathes a sigh of relief.

They enter the house and Brittany kisses Santana, slow and deep, at the door; kisses her insistent and probing at the foot of the stairs; kisses her desperate and hungry at the top of the stairs, and by the time Brittany tugs Santana through the door of Brittany's bedroom, their breaths are coming in short, ragged pants, and Santana's hand is on Brittany's ass, groping it shamelessly. Brittany's got a hand tangled in Santana's hair, using it to tilt Santana's head into the kiss to give her a better angle, to get deeper, and her other hand is at the small of Santana's back, pressing their hips together. Frantic hands work zippers down, fabric rustles, falls at their feet; Santana guides them- _stumbles_ them, really- to the bed, and they fall back on it, tangled, hot stomachs and smooth, bare thighs pressing together in the most tantalizing way.

Brittany moans, wraps legs around Santana's legs, rubs them together- and even though it hasn't actually been that long since she's been with Santana, she's missed the feeling of intimacy- of bare skin sliding against bare skin- that being alone, with an actual _room_ instead of a curtain, provided them.

Brittany's arms wrap around Santana, holding her close, keeping them pressed together while Santana explores her mouth like a professional, teasing her tongue against Brittany's tongue, against Brittany's lips. Santana's hips rock down gently, grinding her center against Brittany's, but the angle is off, it's not enough, and Brittany moans in frustration, lifting her thigh to guide Santana where she wants her.

Santana shuffles, props her other leg over Brittany's, shifts her hips, and then Brittany's inhaling sharply as their warm, wet centers meet. They kiss, sensual and slow, as Santana works her hips the way she knows Brittany likes, and Brittany's at the edge far too quickly, trembling, clutching at Santana.

Brittany brings Santana in close and then carefully rolls them, taking over, taking what's _hers_ (she's going to _get right_ with someone she loves very much) and now that she's free to take it- now that she's no longer in the wrong by doing so- she dominates Santana and shows her what she wants- shows Santana that _Santana's_ always been what Brittany wants.

Their eyes meet, and Brittany feels that much closer to her release just by the look in Santana's eyes; Santana's not _black_, not anymore- she's open, unafraid, giving herself freely, and- and-

Brittany kisses her, panting. _Yours_, she gasps. _I've always been yours._

Santana grips the back of Brittany's neck, not breaking eye contact. Her eyes say, _I know_, and her mouth gasps_, I love you_, and her body screams, _I'm so, so close-_

Brittany moans almost too loudly as their hard, swollen clits nudge together, and as Brittany feels herself close to shattering, she drags her center against Santana's one last time and crumbles apart, moaning, her hips still thrusting through her orgasm, her eyes never leaving Santana's as her mouth parts to pull in huge gulps of air.

The sight of Brittany shaking above her- the way Brittany's open eyes look when she comes- sends Santana over the edge; she arches up, she struggles not to close her eyes, not even when they start kissing again, and it's weird at first, but Santana can't look away- not when so much of her is _Brittany's_. Santana struggles to breathe.

_I've always been yours, too._

(_I'll always be yours_)

* * *

Brittany knows the ending of her story with Santana- she's read the final chapters, she's seen the _happily ever after_. And there are some things- like _everything_ _else_- that Brittany is willing to give up, but there are some things- like _Santana_, and _happily ever after_- that she isn't.

So the next morning when Santana gives her a tight good-bye hug (it's not good-bye, it's _until we find each other again_) and then pulls back a little with that scared, hesitant smile on her face, and her eyes silently ask _What about you and I?_ Brittany only grins in response.

_I love you, Santana. I love you more than I've ever loved anyone else in this world. All I know about you and I is that- because of that, I think anything is possible._

(Brittany knows Santana will always, always find her.)

* * *

**:')**

**And that's a wrap!**

**I hope you enjoyed the story! Thanks for reading, everyone! **

**~And now a word from our sponsor 8)~**

**SO. Three things, really-**

**FIRST. You MAY have noticed that this story has cover art! Yay! I decided to get creative, and since this story is pretty dramatic and cheesy, I made the art very dramatic and cheesy, so enjoy! **

**But really, the cover art was actually made for- brace yourself- A FANMIX! Featuring all the terrible songs used as the titles of the chapters for this story! Wow! You can find the fanmix on my tumblr: xandylytex dot tumblr dot com. Enjoy, homies. **

**Okay, SECOND. I'm sure you are all going to cry yourselves to sleep tonight because this story is over, but I'm here to deliver you some GOOD FUCKING NEWS- as I mentioned in my last update, I plan on doing another canon-based story, but about the first two seasons. I will be blatantly avoiding topics and scenes that have been covered to death, and instead focus my attention on the super SUPER obscure details of background Brittana. It should be fun, and light, to get us through the summer- so I hope you will sail on that ship with me! Feel free to follow me here, or on tumblr, or not at all! :D **

**And speaking of ships, THIRDLY I would just like to say- many of us are giving up on Glee, and that's okay. A lot of people just can't handle the show anymore, and I honestly don't fucking blame them. There's a lot of negativity and Debbie Downer type shit, and that sucks. It's really hard to be hopeful when most people have chosen to end Brittana's story with the choir room scene. But what about for those of us who don't want it to end yet? Of course we know Brittana end up together, that's obvious, but- there's two more seasons of Glee! What now?**

**WELL. Don't give up hope, my dear readers! I will be shipping Brittana as hard as possible, writing fics and drawing fanart until my little fingers and heart bleed, and when HeMo comes back to the show in 2014 for the second half of Season 5 (callin it RIGHT NOW) I'm going to be giving every fuck about what happens. SO. On that note, if you need positivity or just want to complain, my tumblr box is always open or you can send me a PM on here. :) I will throw so much hope at you your little Brittana heart will EXPLODE with happiness. **

**Until next time, take care, and keep on shippin' Brittana. :3**


End file.
